The Eye of the Storm
by MissScorp
Summary: Tim's whole world has been turned upside down. The only person to believe him about Bruce being alive is a woman with her own skeletons in the closet. Together, they not only find the proof needed, but help the other to heal. But can their newfound love survive when one of the skeletons from her closet kidnaps Robin and demands her in exchange for the young superhero?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but my OFC of Raya Kean/Fenix and the concept of my story...

**A/N**: Okay, this story can be taken as being slightly AU. I am writing it from works that inspired me (to see what ones, see my profile). But I am not _re-telling_ a Batman story...I am writing my own.

Chronologically this is story ONE of **The Arkham Series**...

* * *

_Now..._

It was seeing the slender figure that was hanging upside-down, much like the nocturnal creature that was Batman's namesake, from the freeway sign that made him think back to that night, ten months before, when he'd decided to leave Gotham in search of the evidence that he needed to prove that Bruce Wayne was, indeed, still alive. And while he looked up at that figure hanging upside down, he remembered how alone he'd felt. He was no longer the Padawan being trained by the Jedi Master. But neither had he felt as if he had rightfully passed the trials to become a Jedi Knight. All he had been was a Red Robin flying solo. A birdie that suddenly found himself alone.

And he remembered how his confusion, his fear and his desperation were threatening to consume him.

And that his grief and guilt gnawed away at his heart and soul until he'd thought he'd simply go mad. He'd needed the comfort and security of his extended family and friends. But all that was being denied him because he refused to _accept_ that Bruce Wayne was, to the world at large, dead.

And he remembered again the biting burn of anger, the heated rush of his resentment as he turned to face the figure cloaked in the matte-black body armor and pointy-ear cowl. But the man staring at him from behind that mask was not the venerable figure that had, unwillingly at first, taken him on as his protégé. This was not the man that had mentored and trained him for the last four and a half years of his life, who had given him a home and become like a second father to him. Tim hated himself for striking out at a man that was like an older brother- and the only one he had considering he'd been the only child born to Jack and Janet Drake, to him. But he was just not able to forgive Dick for not supporting him, for doubting him, for _firing _him as Robin. Tim understood life was changing. It was changing for all of them. And he knew that with Bruce's disappearance that Dick had inherited a lot of new responsibilities, none more challenging than becoming the guardian of a spoiled, foul-tempered and frequently violent pre-adolescent boy that was both the son of Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul.

When the slippery fingers of memory slowly begun to tug him deeper beneath their manipulative spell, Tim allowed his head to drop back and his eyes to close. And allowed himself to drift back in time and remember how the only hand that reached for his had been one he'd least anticipated...

* * *

_Ten months ago_...

Goddamn it, Dick promised him that everything was going to be alright. But nothing was alright, Tim thought bitterly. In fact, nothing could be more _wrong_. His entire world had come crashing down around him _again_. In the span of two years he'd lost his father, his step-mother and witnessed three of his best friends brutally killed. Now he'd seemingly lost Bruce, too. It was just more than his seventeen-year-old self was able to handle.

The only thing keeping him going, that was keeping him relatively sane, was his increasing belief that Bruce had somehow managed to survive Darkseid's final attack. _It's not my grief that has me believing Bruce is alive_, he thought as he slowed his bike to a stop and stared up at the black-clad figure hanging upside down from the freeway sign. _It's that I know _him. _I have seen him accomplish the unthinkable a million times before. If anybody could have outsmarted Darkseid, who could have avoided the Omega Sanction, it's him_. He just had to find proof of that fact in order to make everyone else believe it, too. _Which could prove easier said than done_, he realized on a long, heavy sigh.

There had been a drizzle earlier in the evening, and a chill that went along with it, but the wind had died to barely a stir. If it had still kicked, the woman hanging from the thin rope would have been swung back and forth and in danger of having the limb she hung from torn off at the joint. Streetlights made shadows of the world surrounding them; the clouds masking the moon and stars overhead. But the black-clad figure looked neither left nor right, up or down. They just continued staring at the small screen of the mini-computer they held in their hands. He dropped one booted foot onto the wet pavement and took a moment to admire her in her skintight outfit.

He told himself he would have to commit himself to Arkham if he _didn't _stop to appreciate her in that spandex bodysuit. Tim could admit—albeit, only to himself, that he had a small crush on the woman hanging above him. He was a relatively normal red-blooded male after all and Raya Kean was an extremely attractive woman. But that was all it was and could be at that moment: a crush. And while forming a relationship with someone who already knew every dark secret that he had made a ton of sense, he was lacking the confidence that he could make the relationship work. His relationship history was complicated, at best.

And right there was another root, one of the many tangled roots in fact, of the problem currently hanging in front of him. While Raya was one of _his_ closest friends, her loyalty was to Dick, who was her best friend. _She'll side with him_, he thought with a sting of bitterness. _She won't understand that the reason why I took up the mantle of Red Robin is because I know I will have to cross lines I couldn't as Robin in order to prove Bruce is alive. Nor will she believe that I chose a tarnished reputation so that if I was caught it wouldn't lead back to my family and friends. She'll just tell me that Dick is right and that I should abandon my plan_. Some of his anger and resentment rose up to choke him and had to be ruthlessly shoved back before did something he knew he'd regret.

"Dick wasn't kidding when he said everyone was worried about me." There was the sting of bitterness in his words, and she could taste it even as he did. But while it shocked and shamed him, he did not apologize for it. "So, when did he call you?"

Bottle green eyes shifted from the computer monitor, gazed out at him from behind a thin black domino. Those eyes were razor-sharp with intensity, burning with pride and intelligence. But they were also soft now with what he thought to be sympathetic understanding and pity. It was the sight of her pity that had him clenching his jaw. He fixed her with a glare that was burning, blistering blue, silently telling her that her pity was not wanted nor appreciated.

Raya slid her mini-computer into one of her suit's hidden compartments. How well she remembered the way grief turned into fury, a raging flood of anger that had caused her to distrust everyone around her, to isolate herself in solitude so that she didn't have to see their pity or listen to their voiced concerns. But she'd had Batman, a larger than life shadow looming over her that neither a broom nor turning on a light would banish back to the darkness. Batman had simply ignored her, not listening to her proclamations of wanting to be left alone, nor allowing her to sink into her grief and misery. He had pushed at her, bullied and badgered her and forcibly drug her out of her self-imposed seclusion. And made her take a good and hard look at the person that she _could_ become, if she but _wanted_ to become that person.

It had been Batman, unbeknownst to him, who'd set her upon the path to becoming the vigilante known as Fenix. It had been on a night much like this one when Batman had approached her and told her that she could either allow her rage to consume her or use that rage to bring men like her father to justice. _He told me I could become the symbol that other victims of violence and injustice could believe in-a Phoenix rising from the ashes and fighting the fires of evil by delivering cold justice. Or he said that I could continue to be victimized by my victimizer_, she thought. She had chosen to become the symbol, though not the one she imagined he had thought she would become when he spoke to her.

But she had never gotten the chance to thank him.

Time, fear and two megalomaniacs had seen to it that she had never gotten the chance to thank him.

Raya pushed the dark thoughts and memories to the back of her mind and focused upon the young man currently glaring up at her. "Dick didn't call me, Tim." When he just snorted his disbelief, Raya sighed. But she took no insult at his colder than usual attitude. He had been through a lot in the last few months and needed her compassion, understanding and friendship more than he did lectures and reprimands. "I have not spoken to, nor even seen Dick in close to three weeks," she said. "His responsibilities here and mine in Blüdhaven have kept us both rather busy."

"Who called you then?" he knew he wasn't being exactly fair to her, but he couldn't seem to help himself. His emotions were raw and pumping through him like a fast-acting drug. Any second he thought he'd simply implode from all the emotions that were hammering at him. "I _know _someone called you and asked you to come and check up on me. If it wasn't Dick that called you then who was it? Alfred? Barbara? Stephanie?"

Raya dropped nimbly to the ground. Again she took no insult at his tone or his attitude, told herself he was only lashing out at her because he was hurting and she was the one currently in his direct line of fire. "In the last sixty-one hours I have had phone calls from Alfred, Barbara, uncle Jim, Clark, Stephanie, Conner, Flash, Cass, and Damian." She ticked the list of names off in the order that she had received the phone calls. "And the only two people that I called back were uncle Jim and Alfred." She fished in one of her suit's pockets and pulled out her cellphone. Held it out to him. "You can check both my call and text logs if you don't believe me."

"That's not your only phone, Raya."

Surprise and uncertainty flickered briefly on his face. But it was the look in his eyes...so naked and raw with the whirl of emotions she knew were hammering at him, that pierced all the way to her soul. That caused her heart to ache, one slow, twisting ache that hurt worse than a fist to the chest. Even as his body jerked, then stiffened, she stepped to him, smoothed her hand over his cheek, felt the muscles in his jaw throb against her palm and knew he was keeping a tight lid on himself at that moment. "Check my emails then Tim," she suggested softly.

That she was willing to strip aside, by her own free will, every inch of her privacy in order to prove her sincerity hammered at his defenses. And stole some of his thunder. "I'm sure Alfred-"

"Called to convey his concerns as well as to _ask_ my professional opinion on what he should do to help you, Dick and Damian through this particularly rough patch. But Tim," she kept her tone light, but still managed to say in a firm tone; "Alfred did not ask me to check up on you." Whatever else happened from this moment on, if he would cast her into the fire and damn her for what she'd done, she could and would be honest with him. "And that likely was because he already knew or suspected that I have been keeping watch over you for the last several days."

"So, you _were_ spying on me," he spat in a cold, hard voice. "Just like Stephanie! You didn't care enough about me to come to me directly. You couldn't talk to me face-to-face. Or listen to what I had to say." Temper sizzled in every word. But beneath the anger was a well of hurt that she knew went way beyond this single moment. "You didn't care enough to just be here for me."

"I'm sorry if my watching over you upsets you, but," she set a hand on his shoulder, squeezed gently. "I was only trying to give you some space and freedom in which to breathe. I figured you would call or text me when you were ready to talk."

Knowing she was being considerate of his feelings, giving him room to move in and respecting his right to privacy only made him feel worse instead of better. His emotions ragged, his thoughts in a whirl, he shoved her hand off his shoulder and gritted; "You probably just think like the rest of them, that my grief and shock over losing Bruce has driven me insane."

"Oh, Timmy." Her voice was ripe with sympathy. "I don't think your grief has driven you insane."

Tim sneered now, damning them both, and himself most of all. But there was a monster in his head, teasing, taunting, and torturing him. "Really?" Sarcasm dripped like acid as he took his cowl off; glared, one long, frustrated stare. "You don't think my grief and shock over losing Bruce is what has me believing he is alive and out there somewhere?"

His face was leaner than she remembered it being, the hollows in his cheeks suggesting that he had become so enveloped with wanting to prove Bruce was alive that he'd forgotten about regular meals. And the contrast of that black hair, those black brows and those piercing blue eyes against those sharp cheekbones only added to the picture of the tormented hero. Yes, she thought, Tim was growing into an exceptionally handsome young man. One who was highly trained and extremely skilled. But Timothy Drake was also extremely intelligent, fiercely passionate and deeply loyal to his friends and family. And hurting badly.

Until that moment she hadn't known whether she was willing to jump off the cliff with him or scramble back from it. But the sight of his grief and anger, his loneliness and pain made the decision an easy one for her. _Damn it, Dick_, she thought with a surge of anger for her best friend. _Can't you see how much Tim needs you right now_? She felt his eyes on her and angled her head to look at him. Finally she said three simple and honest words; "No, I don't."

His mouth thinned into a cold, hard line. "And why not?"

"Because," she stroked his arm, shoulder to elbow. Then realizing he was trembling she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tight. "_I _know Timothy Drake wouldn't say something he doesn't believe is true." She leaned back and looked him in the eyes. "If you believe that Bruce somehow managed to survive Darkseid's attack, then I'll believe it, Tim. Because _I_ believe in _you._"

She'd humbled him, Tim thought. This pretty green-eyed brunette that had been sweetly supportive, gently compassionate, then totally honest all in the span of ten minutes had brought him to his knees. "Damn it, Raya. Why can't _they _see that it's _possible_ he's alive?" he muttered darkly. "Why is it so impossible for _them_ to believe that I might be right?"

"Because it's easier for them to give up hope now and deal with their grief rather than give up their grief and have their hopes crushed."

He thought what she said over. It was sensible. And it was logical. Tim found that he preferred her sensible logic than he did the carefully worded phrases of concern he had been receiving from everyone else. "I'm leaving Gotham in the morning." He angled his head to look at her. "I'm going to search for clues in order to prove that I am right, that Bruce is out there somewhere. That he's alive."

"Define what you mean by _somewhere_."

_Here it is_, he thought. _Here is where she changes her mind and decide that I am, in fact, crazy_. "I think Bruce got caught in Darkseid's _Omega Sanction_ and is traveling through time."

If she was surprised by his pronouncement, it didn't show. In fact nothing showed on her flawless face but a quiet pensiveness. Then she took him completely by surprise when she nodded and said; "Alright...how can I help you?"

And for Raya it was really that simple. Family was something that most people believed came through blood or marriage. But she'd learned a long time ago that family came from the heart. That families were born out of commitment and unity, bonded through laughter and tears, strengthened by their fights and toughened by the reconciliations. Family, in her mind, was a rare, rare gift. As was _friendship_.

Taken completely off guard, Tim could do nothing but gape at her in open-mouthed amazement. "Raya..." his cheeks began to burn with the depth of his shame and embarrassment. "I... wow..." he shook his head. "I don't know what to say."

Her smile was warm, affectionate. "You're one of my Robins, Tim. And I will do any..."

The sound of a familiar car roaring up the road towards them drew both of their attention.

"Shit," Tim muttered as a slash of headlights fell on them, blinding them both for a moment.

"I'll deal with Dick." Her fingers brushed his cheek in a gentle caress before she stepped away, turned. "You go on and get out of here."

Tim noticed that Raya had effectively placed herself between he and his eldest brother. It occurred to him then that she was choosing to support _him_ rather than condemn him. _She isn't siding with Dick as I imagined she would_. He bit down hard on his lip. He owed her an apology, and knew it. Just as he knew she'd wave the apology away.

"No." He curled his fingers around her wrist, surprising her with the sudden intensity. "No. I don't want you to get involved. Not in this." Because he wanted her to look at him, he cupped her chin gently in his fingertips, held her gaze steady. "This is for Dick and I to resolve. Don't get involved, okay?"

"Tim." She laid her palm against his cheek. "I've been involved ever since this adorable little birdie flew into his older brother's apartment and attacked me, thinking I meant his big brother harm."

He smiled, as despite the emotions still hammering at him, it was a nice memory. Still, he couldn't resist teasing her by saying; "What I remember about that night is letting you pin me."

"Letting me pin you?" She rolled her eyes heavenward. "Oh, will you listen to him? And I suppose you've _let _me pin you the dozens of other times that we've sparred with each other?"

Only the faintest flush of heat along his cheekbones betrayed his embarrassment. "I... uh..."

She laughed even as she poked him with a fingertip. "I should have guessed that that was why you liked sparring with me over Dick."

"You are an incredibly beautiful and alluring woman, Raya."

The honesty of his statement embarrassed him. But when he worked up the courage to look at her face, he saw that his words had touched and flattered her. Raya was used to men complimenting her, and had learned to weed the sincere compliments from the insincere ones. On one hand, it was sort of sweet to think he had a bit of a crush on her. He was handsome and charming and there was definitely no doubt as to his integrity and honesty. On the other hand, he was a few months shy of being eighteen, far too young for her to get involved with. Maybe if he was older, had a bit more experience beneath his belt she'd feel comfortable in stepping over those lines, in exploring something romantic with him.

And that was a lousy attitude, sunk in bullshit.

If she couldn't be honest in her own head, her own heart, then where? There was more than his age, more than his inexperience at issue here. It was that she was afraid he could be hurt as a byproduct of her war with Matthew Berkeley. Or worse, that he could be killed because of it. In the cold light of day, she had to be realistic. Whatever it was that might have been, that could have been, would never be. Not so long as the man legally able to claim he was her father roamed the streets of Gotham. Still, she thought, giving him a warm and affectionate smile, it wasn't often that a girl got so sweetly complimented. Especially by such a charming and handsome boy.

"You're a sweet one, Tim," she said sincerely. "Any girl that manages to steal your heart will find herself the richest, luckiest girl in the world."

"Being sweet doesn't matter when you routinely lie to the people you are dating." In the back of Tim's mind he heard a dark voice whisper- _lie_,_ make excuses too, just are never there for in general._ The truth left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Crime fighters don't make the best boyfriends and girlfriends."

"I know we don't." And Raya did know that. It was one of the reasons for why she'd remained single for so long. "People tend to think that crime fighters are motivated by a love of what they do, a desire for the adventure or the thrill of being considered a mystery by society. They don't understand that you don't choose a life as a crime fighter unless something deeper beneath the surface has occurred. Something that is personal, hard to explain, and a whole lot more painful than anything they may have ever endured. For us, loyalty and trust and believing can be a strange thing. We live among those we choose to serve and protect without ever once allowing them to know who we are beneath the masks we wear. Our very jobs demand us to deceive, to perform dark deeds for a noble purpose. And those aren't necessarily stones that help to build a foundation of trust and belief."

"Speaking of trusting and believing. I have a request to ask of you."

"Anything, Tim. Just ask it."

"You believe in me. You trust me."

She smiled. "Of course."

"Then let me deal with Dick."

She shook her head. "No. Tim..."

"No, Raya, I don't want you caught in the middle of our fight." He tugged her back towards him. "I know that you trust me. I know that you trust me to do the right thing, to continue to stand for what I have always stood for even though I have taken on a persona that has a less than stellar reputation. I know you trust me to stand for you the same way I would stand for the rest of the Bat-family or the Titans, to help you when it comes time to take your father down even. You trust me enough for all that. Trust me with this, too."

"I trust you with all that," she told him as she framed his face, kissed his forehead. "And a whole lot more. I do love you after all." Her lips twitched. "Even though your dark and brooding moods as of late have made you a little _less_ adorable...I still love you. I always will, as a matter of fact."


	2. Chapter 1a

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but for my OFC Raya Kean/Fenix and the general concept of my story...

* * *

_Still ten months before..._

Dick Grayson stepped from the Batmobile in time to hear Raya tell Tim that she loved him. And hearing it, he felt a twinge in his gut. Not in jealousy- he knew full well that there was nothing going on between them- but in envy that another man could wring such warmth and affection from her. That another man could hear that soft and heartfelt declaration, even as a friend.

"What are you doing in Gotham, Raya?" He flicked his gaze over to his younger brother, tried to read Tim's thoughts. And realized they were as closed to him now as they had been for the last several weeks. _And will likely remain so after the events of the last few days_, he thought sadly. He saw the hurt and anger, the uncertainty and the fear in Tim's eyes. But he didn't know how to help him or how to make everything alright. He was only barely keeping things together himself. "I thought you were going to remain in Blüdhaven to keep an eye on things there for me?"

"I'm needed in Gotham more than I am in Blüdhaven."

"Raya..." Dick gritted.

"Dick..." she said just as firmly. "You might be wearing the cape and cowl of _Batman_ but that doesn't mean that you've suddenly become _Bruce_. You aren't capable of his level of cynicism or pessimism for one thing." She softened the sting of her words by smiling at him. "And you don't have his ability to turn brooding into an advanced type of personalized warfare for another."

"You haven't had to deal with _his _brooding phase lately," Tim muttered. "Which ultimately comes after the pissed-off phase and which is, you can trust me on this, a whole lot harder to deal with ever since he struck out on his own."

Raya bit back a smile. "He was always moody."

Tim snorted. "I don't mean _moody_. I've seen him moody. What I'm talking about is damn near Batman-level of brooding. Know what he likes to do when he is brooding?"

"You mean what does he do when he's not racing _away _from Gotham and his six-foot-two problem?" Raya asked.

Dick snorted a laugh. "You didn't have to deal with said six-foot-two problem, Raya. If you had then you'd have been fleeing Gotham, too."

"Why would I need to flee," Raya said with a grin. "When I could just hide at uncle Jim's?"

"Now why didn't I think of something like that?" Dick wondered aloud.

"You do, do that," Tim pointed out. "You just hide at Barb's rather than Commissioner Gordon's."

Dick sent his brother a grin. "There's a particular reason for _why_ I choose to hide at Barb's."

"Yea, yea," Tim said dryly. "We know what your particular _reason_ for hiding at Barb's is, thank you very much."

"Take heart my young Robin," Raya said in a playful tone. "You don't have to worry about the Police Commissioner shooting you for being in bed with his daughter."

"You're hilarious Raya," Dick said dryly.

"I know."

"Anyway," Dick said on a long breath. "You never answered my earlier question. What are you doing in Gotham?"

_Idiot man, why do you think I am here?_ she thought. "You need me here, Dick."

_Stubborn, prideful, ridiculously loyal woman_, Dick thought. Then he sighed. Her pride and obstinate nature were two of the qualities that had helped her survive the nightmare that Matthew Berkeley had put her through. And loyalty was a trait he knew he never had to question with Raya. It was more like a religion with her. One that frequently got her into trouble. And which could, if he didn't trim her tail feathers now, be her downfall. So he said; "No. I need you in Blüdhaven."

"Your Robin is nothing like either you or Tim was for Bruce," she insisted stubbornly. "You need someone to help keep _you_ bal-"

"Raya," his eyes flashed with his growing anger. "I need Fenix to keep an eye on things in Blüdhaven. I don't want the city left unprotected."

"The city is not being left unprotected," she said. "I made provisions before coming here to ensure that the city has a Knight to keep watch over her."

Dick took a breath, trying to stem the flow of emotions surging within him. But he was stretched thin at that moment. Getting into the fight with Tim earlier and dealing with Damian on a day to day basis was taking all the mental resources that he had. He really did not need her to take such an obstinate stance against him. "I need someone that I trust to watch over the people of Blüdhaven."

But Tim had heard enough. "What you need is someone you trust watching your back in case your _Robin_ decides to try and kill you as he did me."

"Goddamn it, Tim!" Dick swore as his temper-egged on by his own pounding grief, guilt and exhaustion, finally boiled over the top. "I've explained..."

"And you're never wrong are you?" Tim shot back. "Can't make a mistake can you?"

"And what makes you think that you're right?" Fury raged inside him, hot, boiling rage that was the product of grief. He could feel every emotion as it coursed through his veins. Fast, powerful and dangerous. "What makes you so goddamn sure that he's alive? What _proof_ have you got?"

"Being wrong is better than your blind, stubborn ignorance!" Tim gritted. He climbed off the bike and faced the masked figure standing less than ten feet away from him. He bunched both fists and nearly used them. Very nearly used them. The only thing that stopped him from charging at Dick was the woman standing in front of him. "Why can't you trust-think that I'm right, Dick? Why is it so impossible for you to believe that he might be alive?"

Raya heard the edge in their voices, knew it as a sign of a rising and reckless mood. And it concerned her. The more they argued with each other, the more risk there was of them getting into another physical confrontation. "Stop! Stop it." She said, moving to stand between them. "This is accomplishing nothing," her eyes shifted, pinning first Dick and then Tim. "You should be pulling together and helping each other. Su_pporting _each other instead of fighting with each other. You're more than just partners, more than just friends even. You're _brothers _for chrissakes_!_" She planted her fists on her hips. "What would your _father_ think if he saw you two snapping and snarling at each other like two rabid pit bulls?"

Tim reached out and set a hand on her back. It was rigid as tempered steel. "I'm sorry, Raya. But this is why I didn't want you to get caught in the middle. I don't want her in the middle of this," he said to Dick. "This is our fight to resolve, not hers."

"On that we agree," Dick said, nodding. "But Raya is in the middle of this whether we want her to be or not."

"No..." Tim began but Dick cut him off.

"She's made herself the neutral zone, Tim. The place where no fighting can occur."

"That's because she knows that neither one of you birdbrains will run the risk of hurting_ her_ in order to hurt each _other_."

"As much as I hate to admit it, she's right." Dick folded his arms across his chest. "No matter how much we'd love to take a swing at each other, we'd never once risk doing so with her standing between us."

"That's because_ she_ knows the quality of men that your paternal fathers and your adoptive father all raised you to be."

It was a pointed jab that Dick understood clearly. _She's got a point_, he thought. _I know Tim, have watched him grow up and turn into a formidable crime fighter. Hell, I helped train him. So why is it so hard for me to believe that he's right? _He drew in a breath, let it out slowly. And looked at his brother. "We can't go on like this, Tim. One of us has to bend in order for things to again be right between us."

"I just need you to believe in me, Dick," Tim said quietly. "Even if you cannot believe that I am right, that Bruce is really out there somewhere, _believe_ _in_ _me_. That's all I'm asking for at this moment."

"Tim," Dick said slowly. "I don't understand why you think Bruce could have managed to survive, ."

Tim didn't smile but his face softened and the blaze of anger began to slowly fade from his eyes. "Thank you, Dick."

"So, where were you thinking about beginning your search?"

"I was thinking about starting in Europe," Tim said hesitantly. "Or South America."

Dick nodded, flicked his gaze over to Raya. "And you?" His lips twitched when he saw her start with surprise.

"How did you...?"

"Know?" He interjected with a warm smile. "I know how that lovely little mind of yours works."

She snorted. "You only _think_ you know how my lovely little mind works, Grayson."

"I know that you're already trying to figure out what things you can reschedule so you can go with him."

She made a face at him. "I can't go with him. Not for the next month at least."

"Why not for the next month?" Tim asked curiously.

"Because I've been reassigned to GCPD as their in-house psychologist."

The statement, the quiet truth in it, had both men studying her with twin expressions of furious disapproval.

Tim opened his mouth to say something, but Dick beat him to the punch when he asked; "_You're_ the replacement that Gordon was telling me about earlier?"

"I did earn my degree in Psychology guys."

"I'm just surprised Gordon is allowing you to transfer into the GCPD." Dick returned in as dry a tone as hers had been.

Her lips quirked. "Kinda hard for him to pick someone else when my application was the most awesomest one sitting on his desk."

Dick snorted a laugh. "Someone's being a bit egotistical."

"Truth is never egotistical."

Dick grinned. "It is when you use that autocratic tone."

Raya made a _ffff_ sound before she glanced over to see Tim pulling his cowl back on. "You leaving?"

Tim nodded as he climbed onto his bike. "I have lots of things left to do before I leave in the morning." He'd lingered longer than he'd planned, taking pleasure and comfort in her company, in her gentle soothing. But night was beginning to wane. "I'll be back in a couple of weeks."

But when he made to start the bike, Raya set a hand on his arm.

"I swung all the way here. Give me a lift back to my bunker?" She moved her hand from his arm to his shoulder. "I want to talk to you, for a few minutes anyway. _Alone_."

Tim was rarely surprised. But the delight in having her ask _him_ and not Dick to take her back to her temporary headquarters surprised him by its depth. He'd not known, or really understood, just what having that level of trust meant to him. "Really now?" He gave her a cocky grin to cover up just how ridiculously pleased he was. "Am I gonna need a chaperone?"

Raya rolled her eyes skywards. "Oh, would you listen to him?"

Dick saw Tim's surprise, the flicker of pleasure that crossed his face, and understood it. He also understood Raya, knew what she was about by asking the younger man to take her back to her bunker. _Maybe her being home will be good for him_, he thought. He looked to Raya and said; "Let's grab lunch tomorrow, okay?"

She cocked her head, smiled at him. "I'm in court until noon, but I'm free the rest of the afternoon."

"How's twelve-thirty sound then?"

"Sounds fine with me," she said, her voice and eyes full of mischief. "But considering how you normally don't get up _until_ twelve-thirty, it might present a problem for you."

He gave her a dirty look. "I'll pick you up outside the courthouse _at_ twelve-thirty." He heard her giggle and shook his head before looking at Tim. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to call. You have family and friends here who care about you and won't hesitate to help if you ask them, too."

"I will," Tim promised. "And Dick? Thanks."

"You don't need to thank me, Tim," came the somber reply. "Just be careful, okay?"

"Hey, don't worry." Tim flashed him a quick, cocky grin. "It's me, remember?"

Dick's last thought as he watched them vanish into the night was; _he sounds just like Bruce_.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but for my OFC Raya Kean/Fenix and the general concept of my story...

* * *

_Now..._

"Fenix to Red Wonder," he heard her saying. "Come in Red Wonder."

"Huh?" Tim was jolted back into the present, the vestiges of the memory only a veil lingering over his mind now. "Sorry, I had something on my mind." He had _her_ on his mind he thought bitterly. "What were you saying?"

"I was saying hello… like normal people do when they haven't seen someone in a specific amount of time." Her smile turned her face into something that all but stopped his heart. She angled her head, looked down at him. Drank in the sight of him and tried to not drown in the flood of emotions that rose up to envelop her. _It can't be_, she reminded herself. No matter how much you might want it to be, it cannot be. "Care to tell me what it was that you were thinking about?"

"Maybe later."

How could he tell her that seeing her, that hearing her voice, smelling that intoxicating scent he had come to realize was uniquely her, was driving him crazy? That all the emotions that had been locked inside him for the past ten months were being churned with fresh spurts of longing, need, love? The boy he had been had loved her in the way that one loved a close friend. But he was no longer a boy and what he felt for her was no longer the simple affection that a boy felt. And that was another root, one of the many thousands of roots currently separating them.

There was more between them now than a personal friendship or a professional partnership. They had not crossed that line that separated _friends_ from _lovers_, but they had been flirting with that line for the last three and a half months. It wasn't like he'd planned to fall in love with her; he'd tried his damnedest to avoid it happening. But how was he to have known that everything was going to change once they began working together as partners? That what had been a simple crush was going to become something that went beyond anything he'd ever felt before? _How in the hell was I to know that that one kiss we shared was going to haunt me day and night_?

"Okay," he heard her saying. "I'm here whenever you want, or need to talk."

And that brought up his first question.

"What are you doing in Gotham? I thought with Bruce being back that you were staying away until he has had a chance to get settled back in?"

The way he said it, in that long-suffering and slightly vexed tone had her swallowing back a laugh.

"I love living dangerously." Her melodramatic voice grated on Tim's already sensitive emotional state. "The thrill of getting caught..."

"Could you be serious for a change?" The faint but unmistakable edge of impatience in Tim's voice had Raya blinking in surprise.

_Well someone is sure touchy tonight_, she thought, studying his face. "Bruce is in Metropolis for the weekend, Tim. I thought I would spend the weekend in Gotham and be with my family and friends."

There was worry and uncertainty in her voice, and it shamed Tim when he heard it. He was stealing her good mood with his asshole attitude. But his thoughts and feelings about her didn't qualify as rational. They were powerful. Strong. And very close to snapping even _his_ control.

"When do you plan on revealing to Bruce that you're home?" he asked.

"I would like to do it when Bruce gets back from Metropolis." She dropped down to the ground. "But Dick wants to broach the subject with him as a means of testing what his reaction will be. So," she lifted her shoulders into a shrug. "You'll have to ask him that question."

Tim watched her face as she spoke. She was trying to act as if everything was okay, as if she was fine with Dick's plan. But Tim noticed her eyes were deeply green, deeply sad. _She doesn't just look sad_, he realized with a pang. She looked unhappy. Well, at least there was something he could do that would make her feel better. He reached out a hand, closed it around hers.

"Hey, come here."

"No." But she didn't try to yank her hand away, as he'd half expected her too. In fact, her slender fingers lay quiescent in his. "I'm alright, Tim. Really."

"No," Tim denied in a soft, soothing voice. "You really aren't. Now, come here."

"I'm fine." She insisted stubbornly.

Tim sighed and gently tugged her towards him. He wasn't surprised when her arms wrapped around his neck, he knew her stubborn refusal had just been for show. He stroked her hair and Raya indulged herself for a moment by burying her face in the curve of his neck. Then she pushed away from him. Tim stared at her, clearly confused and annoyed by her rejection.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing's wrong."

"Then why are you pulling away from me?"

"I'm not pulling away from you."

But she was and they both knew it. It was the same argument they'd had in London at the end of summer. This time, however, he had no intention of allowing her to win. "Yes, you are," He kept his voice calm, reasonable as he took a subtle step towards her. "The question is why."

"I've told you..."

She never saw it coming. One second he was studying her with a slightly detached expression in his blue eyes, and the next he'd yanked her against him. His mouth was a fever on hers. Hot, angry, draining.

She was out of breath, and her thoughts had scattered to the four winds by the time he broke the kiss. "I told you! I'm not-"

"You are, and I want to know why."

Detached? She thought. Had she actually believed he was detached? "Damn it, Raya, we know you are avoiding giving me a reason for why you are pulling away from me." He was relentless. A part of him felt like he was drowning. "Now tell me what that reason is."

"I've given you an answer; I'm not pulling away from you. You just refuse to accept that that is my answer."

"Because it's not the real answer," his hands gentled, and his anger became exasperation. "Do you think that I don't know what your reason is? That I haven't already formed a set of suspicions about why you are pulling away from me?"

"If you know my reason, why do you keep asking me for it?" She pushed at him, and her voice hitched. "What is it that you want from me, Tim?"

"I want to hear you tell me why."

"Fine, you want why?" She would have pulled her arms away, but he only tightened his grip. "Because, you feather headed birdbrain, there's nothing I'd love more than to stay in your arms. To be held and comforted, touched and soothed." She turned away, paced three times in tight little circles to burn off some of her agitation. "Don't you realize that there's nothing I'd love more than to give in to the feelings I have inside me? And that I don't because I know I _can't_?"

"Why can't you? The truth," he said as she opened her mouth again.

"Why are you being so-"

"Persistent? Maybe it's because I'm tired of pretending that we don't have feelings for each other. Or that the only reason for why we aren't exploring those feelings we have is because you fear your father coming after me."

"That's not true. Tim-"

"Yes, it is true."

He was relentless, not letting her have so much as an inch of room in which to withdraw from him physically or emotionally.

"You get spooked, worried that someone you care for is going to be hurt and your first instinct is to run away in order to protect them. Just like you did when you left Gotham ten years ago," he continued over her sputtering protest. "And just like you did when you left me in Metropolis last month. I'm not going to let you push me away, Raya. I'm not letting you run away from this. From us."

He ran his hands down her arms, taking hers, and touched his lips to her forehead. "I care for you- more than I thought possible and sometimes more than I like. But it's how I _feels,_ damn it. And it's time you accept that there's nothing your father can do that is going to change that."

Her heart, she thought, just couldn't take it.

"Tim, the reason for why we shouldn't be together hasn't changed."

"But the reason for why we should give being together a chance has changed," he said gently. "Or have you forgotten about what happened at the beach last October?"

"No, I haven't forgotten."

How could she forget? All she had to do was close her eyes to feel him pulling her against him, to hear again the slow, seductive strains of "You Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This". Music and man had come together to form an arrow that shot out over the moonlit beach and pierced her cold heart. She sighed and turned towards him.

"Tim… I don't know what to do here. I have no clue as how to handle what is happening between us."

"Me, either. But we can figure it out, together. In fact, let's go back to your bunker and get started."

"Would you slow down a minute?" But he'd managed to surprise a baffled laugh from her. "I can hardly think straight here."

It felt like everything inside her was twisting and spinning around. And yet, at the center of the confusion, her heart was glowing brighter than the moon.

"What about what happened in Metropolis? Or have you conveniently forgotten about how you were shot at by a shooter we've yet to identify?"

He shook his head. "Raya, we don't know that what happened in Metropolis..."

"It was my father," she insisted in a hard voice. "And I can't risk that happening again. Nor will I," she said, her eyes locked on his. "Risk you."

"What gives you the right to make that decision?" he demanded. "It's not just your decision or your choice to make, Raya. It's also mine."

Because she knew he was right, she sighed.

"Tim, I'm known as Gotham's _Ice Princess_ for a reason."

"I'm sensing a thaw..."

"You're," she continued after a long breath. "The first man I've allowed myself to become so emotionally involved with. I have let myself cross lines and boundaries with you that I have never crossed with other men, not even Dick. And he's my best friend for chrissakes! And I keep telling myself I shouldn't cross these lines with you because of all the factors involved- our age difference being a biggie.

But," she continued over his sputtering protest. "I'm wise enough to realize that there is a spark between us. And to know that where there's a spark, there's fire. I also know how easily that fire can be snuffed out. And I fear that."

"Don't you think that I fear the same things?" He said it softly, reasonably. He took her hand, drew her towards him. "But I'm not walking away, nor am I backing off. Not this time."

She stared at him. For one long moment, she could do nothing but stare at him. Finally she said; "You're asking me to risk you, you know that."

"No," he denied in a gentle one. "What I'm asking you to do is _try_."

She looked down at their joined hands. Everything she wanted, she realized, was standing right here in front of her. All she had to do was reach out and take hold of it.

"The future is always uncertain," she murmured as she slid her arms around him. "But I'd rather face that future with you than without you." She lifted her eyes to his. Couldn't resist pointing out; "But if you end up getting killed because I've lost my mind, it's going to seriously piss me off."

His lips twitched. "Me, too."

With the moon and street lamps bathing them in a soft glow, he took her lips in a kiss that warmed rather than burned. The tenderness of it crept into her heart and chased away some of the doubts and fears that still lingered in her mind. Her hands slid over the smooth, cool leather of his suit, into the silky warmth of his hair. But then the sound of a familiar car coming up the road towards them had them pulling away from each other to turn and look.

"Uh, am I the only one having a weird case of Déjà vu here?" Raya gestured towards the slash of headlights coming towards them from up the road. "Didn't he show up the last time that we met beneath this particular freeway sign?"

"He was coming from the other direction and just had his ass handed to him by yours truly." He flashed her a playful grin. "But yes."

"I tend to recall that it was a pretty unev-"

"Quiet." Tim spread his hand over her face and gave it a nudge. "I won when I put my bo-staff against his chest."

"I've had Dick Grayson pinned on the ground, the point of my talon at his throat and still lost," she pointed out. "Trust me, he wasn't fighting with his heart in it."

"Anyway," Tim said on a long sigh. "Seeing as it's likely you that he tracked here and not..." he barely flinched when she elbowed him in the ribs. "What?"

"I'm checking all my equipment for tracking devices when I get back to my bunker," she muttered darkly. "And if I find nothing suspicious in any of my devices, I'm going to check over every inch of my body."

"Oh?" All innocence now, Tim pulled her against him and smiled down into her disgruntled face. "Can I help with the body search?"

"Absolutely not."

"Raya," he feigned a wounded expression. "Don't be mean."

She merely snorted in response. They turned as that familiar black automobile crested the final hill and came skidding to a stop in front of them. Dick Grayson, in the dark body armor and black cape and cowl of Batman swept from the vehicle and faced the two watching him. He saw the warmth and affection that was on their faces, the way that Tim's hand rest familiarly on her hip, how she stood so closely to him.

He knew something was going on between them. He'd danced this particular dance enough to recognize the steps. But he figured it was none of his business and not for him to say yay or nay too. Not that he had a right to tell them they could not date, really. He _was_ engaged to Raya's cousin, Barbara after all.

Silently he admitted that them _together_ did worry him. And that it was more because of Raya's relationship hesitancy and inexperience. He banished his thoughts to the back of his mind, however, and watched Raya plant her fists on her hips and came sauntering towards him. Under normal circumstances he'd have grinned and joined in her playful bantering. But these weren't ordinary circumstances and he was in no mood to play.

"You have an impeccable sense of knowing just where I am, Grayson. Almost as if you have a..." Raya trailed off as she caught the look on his face. Instinct told her something was amiss, horribly wrong. And this wasn't the more playful and light Batman she was looking at. Her body tensed, and she reached out to set a hand on his arm, felt the way the muscles tensed beneath her palm.

"Dick? What is it? What's wrong?"

"Damian's been kidnapped."


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but for my original characters Raya Kean/Fenix and Matthew Berkeley as well as the general theme and story concept..

* * *

_Continued_...

"_What_?" Tim and Raya said in unison.

Tim moved to stand next to Raya, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back. He saw Dick's eyes shift. Pin him. For a minute it felt like Dick was staring into his very soul and measuring whether or not he found him worthy of the woman standing next to him. He found himself wondering what was going through Dick's mind; tried reading his thoughts but found them to be written in a language he neither knew nor understood.

"Damian has been kidnapped," Dick said quietly.

Dick told himself he shouldn't be surprised. But he was. He had convinced himself that Raya would never allow herself to get involved with Tim, that her fear of commitment would render her unable to enter into any type of a relationship with him. But now wasn't the time to ponder over what might, or might not be between the two. There was something- _someone_, he corrected silently, that was much more important at that moment for them to be thinking about. They all needed to focus and work together if they wanted to get Damian back safe and sound from the man who held him.

"When was Damian taken? And from where?" he heard Raya asking him. He shifted his gaze to her.

"He was snatched off the roof of the McKlennan Factory about an hour and a half ago."

"By who?" Tim demanded.

Dick sighed softly. There was a loaded question if he'd ever heard of one. And one that deserved an answer considering how much he was going to need Tim's help that night. Because while Dick knew and understood that the relationship between Timothy Drake and Damian Wayne was _volatile, _and that neither liked the other much, he also knew that Tim wouldn't hesitate to help him rescue the boy.

_And I need his help more than ever considering who the man holding Damian hostage is_, Dick thought bitterly. Dick's expression within that dark cowl was so cold, so filled with fury that it reminded Raya of Bruce. And caused her heart to clench tight in her chest. She slid her hand down into his, squeezed his fingers reassuringly.

"We'll get him back from whoever has him, Dick."

"No."

She never saw it coming. One second he was looking at Tim, his face a mask of hard angles and planes-determination incarnate. The next his fingers were tightening on hers and he was yanking her against him, hard enough to knock the wind out of her.

"_You _are to head to the Batcave and lend Barbara a hand in figuring out where Damian is being held. Tim and I will handle getting him back."

_Why is he sending me to the Batcave_? she wondered with a slight frown. If Damian had been kidnapped by one of Batman's more sadistic enemies then every able body was needed to see that the boy was gotten back safely. _But he's sending me to the cave. Almost as if he_... her thoughts trailed off as realization dawned. She lifted eyes that had gone as hard as green glass to his.

"My goddamn father has Damian, doesn't he?" She accused in a soft, dangerous tone. "Doesn't he?!"

"Yes." Dick hissed, immediately tightening his grip on her hand. "And that is why _you_ are going back to the Batcave."

"_No_, I'm not."

"_Yes_, you are." When she went to slap her free hand against his chest plate, he caught it in his and pinned both at her sides. She heard Tim say Dick's name as she struggled against him. "She's standing down, Tim," he gritted. "And that's final!"

"Damn you! _Goddamn_ you! How dare you order me back to the cave as if I am some helpless female!"

She felt fury rise up and nearly swallow her whole. All of it aimed at the man who held her trapped in his arms. But beneath the fury was fear, a dark and twisted mass that crawled through her like worms in dirt. She knew what her father was capable of, knew the pain he could inflict. And as strong and resilient as Damian Wayne was, the kind of abuse her father could dish was not the type of physical violence that the boy was used too.

"You have no right to order me to stand down! Not when Damian is in the hands of Satan!"

"I'm making it my right!"

"This is Damian's life that is in danger, Dick! You have no right..."

"This is not about rights, Raya," he gritted. "It's about keeping _you_ from falling in the trap your father has set for you."

"You think I'm not aware that this is a goddamn trap?" Her hands wanted to tremble. Sheer will kept them steady. "You think I don't _know_ that my father told uncle Jim that he'll happily trade the boy for me?"

"Raya..." Dick began but Raya merely cut him off.

"I've had twenty-six years with the son of a bitch, Dick. I _know_ what he's capable of. I know how far he will go and the amount of pain he will inflict upon Damian just for the sheer pleasure of it!"

"You think I don't know what that bastard is capable of?" Dick shook her, once, hard. "I watched him break your arm, Raya! I know what the son of a bitch is capable of!"

"Then you know that you will _not_ get Damian back without me."

As much as he hated to admit it, Tim knew she was right. She had witnessed Matthew Berkeley's cruelty and borne the brunt of his anger and hatred her whole life. She knew what he would do, how far he would go, just what it was that they could expect when they came face-to-face with him. He understood that she was a valuable resource that they should be using in order to get Damian free with the least amount of injury inflicted. But he also understood that Dick was never going to relent and allow her to come along with them. He was too involved emotionally, couldn't separate Raya from the Fenix, his best friend from her alter ego. Which was why he knew that Dick was not going to like what it was he was about to do.

"You're right, Dick. It is too dangerous for her to come with us. But you know that she's never going to agree to return to the cave. She's far too headstrong and stubborn to see things our way and will do as she pleases once we leave."

Raya couldn't believe what it was that she was hearing. Hot color filled her cheeks, suffused her voice. "Tim-" she began but Tim just spoke over her.

"I suggest that we zip tie her to the handlebars of my bike and leave her here."

Raya looked from one to the other. Trapped, she realized, between them. She'd hoped Tim would have understood why it was important for her to confront her father-that he'd have chosen to support her in this rather than side with his brother.

"Don't do this. _Please_ don't do this, Tim."

Tim deliberately kept his face blank, his posture loose as he pulled a zip tie from one of his pouches.

"I'm sorry, Raya," he said softly as he bound her wrists together. "But this is for your own good."

He slipped the loop around one of the handlebars but only pulled the zip tie tight enough to give the illusion that she was securely bound. With some confusion, Raya looked first at her bound hands and then at him. And then she looked to where Dick had walked back to the Batmobile and stood waiting by the drivers side door.

"What are you doing?" she murmured softly.

"I'm taking the same chance on you that you took on me a year ago."

"But Dick..."

"Let me worry about Dick," he said.

She stood there, her hands loosely bound to the handlebar of his bike, her gaze locked upon his face. And realized what he was doing. Just as she had taken a chance by siding with him a year ago, he was taking one by siding with her. Emotions completely swamped her. A lump formed in her throat, and her voice was hoarse when at last she was capable of speaking.

"Where would your father take Damian?"

"Our family Estate."

"Why do you think he took Damian there?" he asked, surprised despite himself.

"Haven't you figured out why I don't ever go to my ancestral home?" She smiled bitterly. "It's because the Estate is my own personal brand of kryptonite. And my father knows it."

He nodded his head slightly. "Anything you can tell me about the guards? About where he is likely to have the majority of them situated?"

"Damian will be guarded pay my father directly," there was a note of caution prevalent in her voice now. "As to the grounds themselves, the gardens at the back of the property are your best bet for getting into the house undetected. They won't be covered by more than a guard or two at most because my father will figure that you will storm the front gates." She formed an image in her mind of the house and surrounding grounds. "If you enter the house through a set of sliding glass doors you will find yourself in the family room. That room won't be guarded. Wait for me there."

"How do you know that the family room won't be guarded?"

"My father will have the majority of his forces situated in three places...the East Wing, my bedroom and my mother's bedroom. He'll see the family room as being unimportant, a minor detail in the larger scheme of what he has planned."

They were the places, Tim thought with a rising mixture of anger and disgust, where the very worst of the offenses Matthew Berkeley Jr., had committed—against her, against Dick, and against her mother- had occurred. If it took the last breath in his body, he was determined that tonight was going to be the end of his reign of terror. He turned to leave. Raya bit her lip, tasted worry and fear. "Tim, promise me that you'll be careful."

"Hey, it's me, remember?" Tim flashed her that quick, playful grin that she'd come to adore.

"Yeah, _that_," she said on a sigh. "Is not exactly the promise I needed to hear."

He cupped her cheek in his palm. "I promise to be careful," he said. Then he kissed her, just one quick kiss before he turned to walk to the Batmobile. He climbed into the passenger seat and looked over at Dick; saw that his face was completely blank.

"She says Damian is being held at the Berkeley Estate."

"I know."

He arched an eyebrow. "You already knew where Berkeley was holding Damian?"

Dick gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head. Tim wasn't sure whether he should be annoyed or curious. Curiosity eventually won out.

"Why were you ordering Raya to return to the cave and help Barbara if you already knew where Damian was being held? Making a pretense of giving her a choice and option of how she could help without actually placing herself in harm's way?"

"It was a means to test _you_, actually."

"Test me?" Tim sputtered. _Where the hell is this coming from_? he wondered. Dick had never before felt the need to test his loyalty, not even when he'd been hell-bent on proving that Bruce was alive. "Why were you testing me?"

"I needed to find out just what you would do if her father ever came at her, either directly or through one of us," the older hero replied quietly. "Which is why I installed a tracking device in the _Red Cycle_. I wanted to be able to get to you in case her father sent his goons after you. And I wanted to be able to stop you if you ever decided to go after him on your own."

Tim had long suspected that that was how Dick had been able to locate him whenever he did not wish to be found. And while it did not please him, he could understand the reason behind it. But having his loyalty and judgement tested? Now _that_ bugged him. "So, did I pass this _test_ of yours?" he gritted.

Dick turned his head to look at him. The ends of his lips crooked upwards. "You did exactly what I expected you to do."

"And what is it that you think I did?" there was enough anger and guilt and insult in his voice to let Dick know that he wasn't thrilled.

"One," he said. "You only tightened the zip ties enough to make it _look_ like she was bound securely. Two? You tied her to the handlebar of your bike rather than to the freeway post." His eyes gleamed with dark amusement. "Even I know it won't take her more than twenty seconds to get her hands free. But it was number three that was the ultimate giveaway." Now his lips curved into a full smile. "You left her your bike. Kinda obvious that you were aiding her escape when you left her a mode of transportation."

Tim felt a flush creeping up his neck. "Dick..." his voice trailed off. He sighed and looked away. "I'm sorry for going against you," he said finally. "But, I'm not sorry for what I did."

"I only wanted her to stand down so that she couldn't get hurt."

"I know why you wanted her to stand down, Dick. But she can't move forward with her life until she can finally see her father put behind bars. She's waited thirteen years to see justice. For herself as much as for her mother. And I mean to see that she finally gets it. I'm sorry if that upsets you, but it's what I feel is right."

"Don't apologize for doing what you think is right, Tim." Dick chided gently. "As I told you, you did exactly what I expected you would do." He sighed now, softly. "It's what I would do were I in your boots."

"Are you alright with her and I..." he trailed off, unsure of what to say or how to define the relationship that he and Raya had. They weren't exactly a couple but neither were they just friends. He turned to stare out the window. "Are you alright with me dating her?" He asked finally.

"I'd be lying if I said it thrilled me." Dick said honestly. He glanced at Tim. "I love her, she's my best friend. But I know that she comes with a wealth of baggage. And that like Bruce she tends to internalize a lot of her baggage in self-doubt and recriminations. Her father hurt her in ways that she has never really talked about, and never really dealt with. But I've seen her when she's with you, Tim. She's _happy_-happier than I have seen her in a long, long time. So, I will tell you to take it slow. And to always keep in mind that Raya has a badly broken heart that needs to be shown that it's alright to trust again."

Tim nodded. It was sound logic and he knew it. "You know I'll do my best to never hurt her."

"You'd better," Dick flashed him a grin but there was a note of steel in it that told Tim his brother was being dead serious. "Because if you do hurt her in any way whatsoever? I will beat the absolute shit out of you."

"Yea," Tim replied dryly. "In your dreams, Grayson."

* * *

Thirteen years ago, Raya had returned to her familial Estate in order to not only confront her father and put him behind bars for the crimes that he had committed, but to rescue a very different Robin. But she had been ill-prepared for what her father had had planned...to kill her and Robin both. As she sped through the night, the wind shrieking like a banshee and her heart beating a hard tattoo against her ribcage, she thought of how close her father had come to accomplishing his goal that night.

If it had not been for Batman's timely arrival, Dick and her both would be dead. _But tonight is not going to be a repeat of that night_, she promised herself. She wasn't an inexperienced kid who was rushing headlong into danger. She was a well-trained crime fighter going on a rescue mission with two other well-trained crime fighters at her side. The odds this time were clearly in their favor.

Her familial Estate was in the north end of Gotham's Bristol District, an extravagant prison of white brick built along the same Gothic architectural style as Wayne Manor. The property was surrounded by a wrought-iron fence topped with razor-sharp spear points, beyond which stretched miles of neatly tended green lawn and majestic oak trees. Given all that she knew about her father, she decided her best approach was from the tunnels that ran below the main house. She crept around the perimeter fencing, careful not to stir dried leaves or step on fallen twigs.

When she reached the stretch of open ground that led to the underground tunnels she paused, looked toward the mouth of the tunnel. There was no sign that it was being guarded, but she still needed to tread lightly. Where her father was concerned _safe rather than sorry_ was always the best policy to undertake. As she walked towards the tunnels, her heart beat a little too fast. She stopped, waiting until she'd regained control over her emotions before ducking into the tunnels moist shadows.

The tunnels were dank and dark and would have been difficult to navigate were it not for the night-vision filters in her mask. Slippery slime coated the rock walls. Rats and other vermin scurried into the shadows, rustled overhead. Tunnels and caves were also a favorite nesting spot for bats- as she well knew. It was the _Fenix_ that crept through the tunnels now, watching her every step as she made her way through the underground. She kept her guard up and her body tense, at the ready. Her eyes probed the thick shadows for any sign of human movement. Her ears strained to detect even the minutest of sounds. Footsteps echoed from up ahead.

She grabbed onto a hanging pipe and swung up and out of sight. Her sleek black suit made her completely invisible. A few seconds later, a mercenary came walking down the tunnel. Padded black body armor, a motorcycle helmet complete with thermal night-vision goggles, and an automatic assault rifle made it clear that her father was paranoid enough to beef up his security considerably. _He knows that I am going to come for Robin. And that Batman will come for me. _The mercenary paused to scan the dimly-lit tunnel, which presented her with one chance in which to eliminate him before he decided to use his thermal vision and scout the ceiling above him. She hung from the pipe, upside down, and hit him in the side of the neck with one of her toxin laced needle-thin projectile darts.

"What the hell?"

The startled guard had time to reach up to touch the side of his neck before the neutralizing toxin took effect, rendering him unconscious. Fenix dropped down to the ground without making a sound. She zip tied the mercenary's wrists and ankles before tapping her earpiece.

"Red Robin," she said softly. "Be on the lookout for armored guards with thermal night-vision goggles carrying military grade assault rifles."

It was silent for a moment. But the one who replied was not Red Robin.

"Where are you, Fenix?" Batman asked.

He didn't sound surprised by her call-in. She took that to mean that Tim had either admitted to helping her or that Dick had known all along and chosen to not interfere. She began making her way down the dark tunnel that she knew led to the basement.

"I'm in the underground tunnels that run beneath the main house."

She heard a sigh and recognized it as Tim's. "If she tells me that there's a Fenix-cave beneath this house..."

"No," she said with a good deal of amusement. "There is no Fenix-cave beneath the house."

"Why did you tell us to enter the house from the back gardens if there were underground tunnels we could have used instead?"

"I couldn't be sure what condition the tunnels were in. I haven't used these tunnels in over thirteen years and didn't think to have them inspected after the earthquake that hit Gotham a few years back."

"Understood. We're making our approach to the house now. Snipers have been posted on the roof on the mansion and we've had to move slow so as to not draw their notice."

She made a soft sound deep in her throat that was full of interest, and flavored with concern. Her father had more than just beefed up his security, she realized. He'd prepared for a war.

"Just be careful." She cautioned in a soft tone. "I'll meet you in the family room in ten minutes."

"Be careful Fe."

"Don't worry Red," she teased as she made her way over to a huge wooden door. "It's me, remember?"

"Funny." It was clear he was not amused by her using his own words. "Red out."

She tapped her earpiece to disconnect the connection and scanned the basement with her thermal vision to ensure it was empty before she opened the door. Her eyes tracked everywhere as she made her way across the room quickly. She heard footsteps on the floor above her and paused to scan the number of guards that were prowling the second-floor. Counting at least two dozen gave her a moment's pause but she shook off her concerns and hurried over to the north-east side of the room. The hidden door was cleverly worked into the white paneling. Though she expected the creak of hinges, the sound still sent chills dancing up and down her spine.

The door popped open, releasing a rush of fetid air and the smell of dust and mildew. She took no notice as she began making her way quickly along the passageway, her fingers trailing the wall on the left side in order to find the hidden door she needed to use to exit the passageway. By the time she felt the seam of the door, she was more than ready to get out of this dark and dank passage that was hardly bigger than a jail cell.

She checked to make sure no mercenaries were on the other side before she pushed the hidden door open, sucked in a lungful of the fresh air, and stepped out into what had once been the living room. The family room was just across the main foyer, she told herself, already moving on silent feet to the door. From there it was just a matter of leading Batman and Red Robin through the passageways to the east wing of the mansion, and to the bedroom where her life had been changed forever.

_Where justice will finally be served_, she thought bitterly.


	5. Chapter 3b

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but for my original characters Raya Kean/Fenix and Matthew Berkeley as well as the general theme and story concept..

* * *

The French doors at the back of the house were locked. The interior lights were off, the room empty like Raya had said it would be. To Tim, the imposing mansion was nothing but a series of sharp angles and hard surfaces with plenty of marble, glass and the cold, cold sparkle of crystal. It was as lavish and opulent as Wayne Manor, but lacking any of the personal _touches_ that made the manor feel like home. Death, in all it's cold cruelty, hung over this house like a shroud.

Its shadow ran deep. Cloaked by it, the house whispered to him that he should stay away, that he didn't want to know the secrets that it kept. And like any secret, its threat was silent. A breeze stirred the air, then was gone, like the single sigh of a voice that wanted to speak, but couldn't. There was a scent on the air, a sweet and heady fragrance that made him think of cemeteries and death. _Lilies_. His body shuddered as he registered the scent. It was not a scent he had fond memories of.

"I can see why she prefers the Manor to this place," he said as he peered around the corner of the house to ensure no guards were patrolling that sector of the property. "Even with the mountain of memories that hang over the Manor, it does not feel as cold, lonely or sad as this place."

Removing a lock pick from his belt, Batman knelt and made short work of the lock. He too had felt the oppressive weight of death that hung over this place. "I didn't understand why she preferred the Manor until I attended a New Year's Ball here with Bruce."

"That was before her mother was murdered, wasn't it?"

"A couple weeks before, yes." He looked over at Tim. "Even with the music blaring and people laughing, dancing or otherwise engaged in high revelry, you still could feel that the house was a dark entity possessing a cornucopia of secrets. And that it was..." he trailed off, struggled to form the words that explained the strange feelings this house evoked inside him. "I dunno... it was like the mansion was _waiting_ for something."

"Waiting?" Red asked curiously. "Waiting for what?"

"I was never sure if the house was waiting because it knew that another death was about to occur or because it was waiting for its dirty secrets to finally be told."

"You met Matthew Berkeley Jr. but not her mother that night, right?"

"No, I met Raya's mother."

"You mean the first time you met Raya's father was the night he shot you?"

Batman's smile was bitter, as was his voice when he said, "Berkeley, like most of Gotham's elite back then, felt that my _pedigree_ was well below his social standard. And so he did not deem me as someone worth meeting or knowing."

"But Bruce took you in..." Tim began but Dick cut him off.

"Being legally adopted by someone whose blood was as blue as theirs did not make me one of them, Tim. To them, I was still nothing but _poor circus folk."_

It was a part of his history that he did not like thinking about unless he had too. On the outside, being the ward of a man with the vast wealth and social status as Bruce Wayne should have seemed like a dream come true for a boy who'd suddenly found himself an orphan. But it had been more a nightmare than a dream to Dick's way of recollection. Being singled out constantly by school faculty and angry parents, tormented and ridiculed by fellow students and virtually ignored by his benefactor had left him feeling caged, empty, and even more alone than he'd been at the Catholic orphanage.

"That's why Berkeley didn't approve of your friendship with Raya."

"He saw our _friendship_ as preventing her from attracting a suitable boyfriend from among her social equals."

"Alfred told me that Bruce encouraged you to keep seeing Raya. That he thought you were good for each other."

"We were good for each other, Tim," he said with a slight smile. "Raya and I were two lonely, lost and grief-stricken kids desperately in need of a friend." It bounced in his memory. Tasted bittersweet. "Having each other to hold onto helped us to adjust and come to terms with all the changes that were going on in our lives."

"Considering how much your life changed? It's easy to see why you became close to her." _And only got closer to her after her mother was murdered_, Tim thought. But his thoughts reminded him of the question that had been plaguing him as of late. "Why didn't Gordon arrest Berkeley for his wife's murder? Surely he was looking at him as the prime suspect?"

"Gordon has always suspected Berkeley is the one who murdered Ellen Rae Kean." Batman replied in a somber tone. "As do you, Bruce, Alfred, Barbara and myself. But proving that he was the one who pulled the trigger has been an issue that neither Gordon nor Batman has been able to resolve. What evidence that was obtained that night has either been tainted or lost." He sighed, glanced up at him. "There's simply no forensic trail left to prove that it was, indeed, Berkeley who shot his wife. And considering that the few witnesses that did come forward mysteriously recanted or disappeared,"he added in a hard voice. "There was simply no way to make the charges stick."

_And considering that Berkeley had _friends_ in high places..._ Tim pushed the thought aside and said; "Doesn't help that Raya refuses to talk about what happened that night."

Dick heard the frustration in the younger man's voice and reached out to set a hand on his shoulder. "Could you admit that your father was the one who murdered your mother?"

Tim realized that the answer to that question wasn't as easy as it seemed. Admitting that someone like Captain Boomerang or the Obeah Man murdered your parent was a lot easier than admitting that it was your own parent that murdered the other.

"She can't continue running from the truth," he said.

"She's spent eleven years running away from what happened that night. And the last two running towards it in order to set the wrong right."

"You realize that facing the truth includes facing Bruce, right?"

Batman turned the latch, and then quietly swung open the door. There was humor in his eyes, in his voice when he asked; "Was that your subtle way of asking me to talk with Bruce about her being back?"

"Well, _I _know that I'd certainly appreciate it if you would..."

He snorted his amusement. "I will try and talk with Bruce as soon as he comes back from Metropolis," he promised. "For now, let's focus on rescuing Damian."

Red nodded and alongside Batman stepped into the darkened room. They moved like a well-oiled machine, fanning out to cover both sides of the room, automatically knowing-trusting that the other would always have their back. Batman did a thorough surveillance of the first story that revealed three bodies besides his and Red Robin's own-two in the foyer in front of them and one in the room across from them that he assumed was Fenix.

"I'm counting a minimum of a dozen guards patrolling the corridors of the east wing." Red said in a soft voice as he crouched in the shadows by the entrance. "And there are five figures in one of the upstairs rooms-one figure smaller than the rest. I'm assuming the smaller figure is Robin."

"There are two guards in the hall in front of us," Batman whispered back. "And I suspect that the figure in the room across from us is Fenix."

"We both know how bad she is with directions." It was said with amused resignation. "But getting lost in her own house is bad even for _her_."

"You think that's bad?" Dick flashed him a grin. "She sent me and Bruce to a Chinese Brothel once."

Tim chuckled softly. "Oh, man, I can so imagine Bruce's face when he realized that he was in a brothel."

"He was pretty shocked and embarrassed from what I remember," Dick said with a grin. "But once he got over his initial reaction, I think he was more bemused at how someone as intelligent as Raya can have such atrocious directional sense."

"I say we go tease her about getting lost."

"And that my very young friend?" Dick said in the voice of a man who had treaded upon those very shores before. "Absolutely ensures that the pretty girl will not kiss you for a very, _very_ long time." He flashed another grin at him. "But as I am not the one currently looking to be kissed by said pretty girl, allow it to be me who teases her about managing to get lost in her own home."

"You realize she will kick your ass, right?"

"Ah, Peruvian lilies are a man's best friend when it comes to soothing the ruffled feathers of our Fenix."

Tim chuckled softly and watched as Batman got to his feet and began making his way from the room, scalloped cape fluttering behind him. The two henchmen stood in front of a dark room on the opposite side of the foyer. The black leather bomber jackets they wore, the black cargo pants, and the automatic rifles made it clear that they were not simple bodyguards or ordinary thugs. The lead thug smiled, cold and cruel as the two caped crusaders came towards him. His eyes, Batman saw, were empty and blank, devoid of anything but the evil that lurked within.

"Well, lookie what we have here." The thug said in a cold, dark voice. "It's Batman and Red Robin."

"But the girl ain't with them," the second thug complained. It was clear to Red that he was not the brains of the two. "Boss ain't gonna be happy."

"Who says she ain't here?" Lips compressed into a hard, thin line, the guard lifted his rifle and pointed it directly at Batman. "I say we lure the little bitch from her hidey hole by shootin' these two full of lead."

Dick saw Raya step out from behind the two men. At some point she had stripped off her mask, arm gauntlets, gloves and upper body armor, a fact that deeply concerned him. But he suspected that her reason for leaving herself so open and vulnerable had something to do with her father. But still, it was a gamble that he knew could prove costly. He watched her lift up her hand, saw the smoke capsule nestled in the web between her thumb and pointer finger. He gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head, understanding what she was about. She dropped the bomb between the henchmen. Dense smoke immediately filled the entrance hall and made visibility difficult for the armed men.

"What the hell do we do?" The second thug cried.

"Start shooting ya idiot!"

But the startled henchmen didn't have time to lift their weapons. Batman attacked in a vicious display of violence. A spin heel kick disarmed the first guard, only a split second before he slammed his head into the doorjamb while Red simultaneously laid out the second guard with a jaw-crushing right hook. They moved with the confidence of two people who knew the others moves. Who understood how the other operated. It was Tim that secured the thugs' wrists with zip ties before joining Dick and Raya at the entrance into what Tim assumed had once been the formfor living room.

"I thought we'd agreed on meeting in the family room?" Batman asked with the ghost of a smile upon his lips. "You didn't get lost or anything did you?"

"I did not get lost," she sent him a sheepish smile. "I just forgot that the hidden door that leads into the family room is on the right hand side of the passageway instead of the left."

His lips twitched but he refrained from pointing out that she frequently got lost even when she did remember where the hidden doors were located.

"There are hidden passageways in this place?" Red shook his head. "Next you'll tell me there's a hidden room behind one of the bookcases in the library..."

"There is." Raya grinned and her eyes twinkled with mischief. "It leads to the laundry room."

"Get outta here..."

She signaled for them to follow her and showed them the entrance that she'd used to navigate the house's labyrinthine maze. "There are about ten of these passageways throughout the house," she said. "All leading to specific parts of the house-kitchen, laundry, servants quarters, both of the upstairs wings, library."

Tim watched her face as she spoke. She was trying to remain steady. But there were things beneath that calm veneer, strong, dark emotions. She was feeling the pressures from being back in this house, and more than she wanted or cared to admit, she was afraid.

"The nightmare ends tonight, Raya," he promised.

"Tim-" Dick said, sighing heavily because he knew neither one was going to like what he was about to say. But he'd realized that he just couldn't risk letting her father hurt her. Not when he'd hurt her so much already. "She's not going with us."

"What?" Tim looked over at Dick. Tried to see what it was that had caused him to change his mind about letting Raya confront her father. But he saw nothing on the visible parts of his face but for the impassive mask that Batman habitually wore. "I thought we were in agreement that she needed to confront him in order to see justice finally served. What's changed your mind?"

"I can't allow her to risk her life or physical well-being by confronting her father without her armor to provide at least some protection against whatever it is he might try to pull."

"_'Allow me to confront my father_.'" Raya repeated the statement as if he'd said it in a foreign language. "Yea, see, _I_ don't recall having to ask _you_ for permission to do anything." She all but vibrated with the force of the emotions that were rocketing through her. "I don't recall having to answer to _you_."

Batman shifted, leaning closer to her, simultaneously protective and threatening. "When you're in Gotham you'll damn sure answ..."

"Finish that sentence," she growled. "I _dare_ you."

Tim had not known that Raya had that much temper in her. Or that it could, like always, trigger Dick's own.

"This is _not_ open to discussion." He growled through clenched teeth. "You can either stay here or you can take yourself back to the tunnels and wait there for us. Either way you are _not_ going to confront your father."

She lifted her head and met his scowl without flinching. "I'm confronting my father. And nothing _you_ say is going to change my mind about it."

He looked down at her-then stepped closer, only a few inches taller than her but still managing to be subtly intimidating. "Well I'm suggesting that you _change_ your mind. And if I was you," he added before she could issue the blistering retort he saw already forming in her eyes, upon her lips. "I would change my mind really, _really_ quickly."

He took another step; eyes locked on his, Raya raised her hands and shoved against his chest.

"Stop it! You're trying to intimidate me into doing what it is you want me to." She shoved at him again. "But it's not going to work. _You_ are not _him_. _You_ don't intimidate me like _he_ does!"

"If he was here he'd do a helluva lot more than just intimidate you in order to get his way and you damn well know it, Raya."

Raya glowered at him. "And I might be inclined to obey _him_ more than I intend to obey _you_." Now she glared. "But I wouldn't count on it. When it comes to standing face-to-face with my father and finally having my vengeance upon him there's nothing, besides death, that is going to stop me."

A muscle ticked in Dick's jaw, was her only clue as to how tight a rein he was keeping over himself at that moment. But she'd only begun to blister him for his high-handedness. She slapped a hand on his chest before he could move around her. Dick reached up and grabbed her hand in a bone-crushing grip.

"I wouldn't push me much farther, Raya."

Part of her was annoyed with him for not seeing-not realizing why it was so important for her to confront her father. It was not only about obtaining justice for the woman that he'd horribly abused and then brutally murdered, but to take back a piece of herself as well.

"You don't get it," she said as calmly as she could. "You don't understand _why_ this is so important to me. Why this is something I don't just _have_ to do, but that I _need_ to do as well."

"I know you _think_ that I don't get it, but I do. You want to see your father brought to justice for the things he's done to you and to the people you love. I get that. I _support_ you in wanting that. I will do everything I can to help you get it." He yanked her to him, hard enough that their bodies collided. "But goddamn it, I'm not letting you risk your life to bring the son of a bitch down." He gave her one quick, desperate shake. "Let Red Robin and I get the justice that you want, that you _deserve._"

"And what am I supposed to do?" Fury all but threatened to swallow her whole. "You and Red Robin take down my father and save Robin while I-what- hide and wring my hands?"

"Whatever will keep you safe."

"You're not my shield, not my protector. What abilities and skills I possess are not any less than yours." She shoved him with her free hand. "I won't tolerate this, not from _you_. We're _partners_- equals." She dropped her voice to a whisper. "Do not ask this of me, Dick. Please, _don't_."

"If you were being rational right now, you would see that your emotions are clouded. And you'd remember that clouded emotions are dangerous." He gave her another shake. "I'm only trying to keep you from getting hurt damn it."

"You're interfering because it makes you feel like the goddamn hero, and-"

"That's not why he's doing this, Raya."

Even as Tim spoke, the piercing edge of her gaze swung over to him, raked over his face. Recognizing a woman who was about to cause bodily damage to whatever member of the male species was in her way, Tim held up both hands, stepped back. Dick, he decided, could deal with her all on his own.

"Do you think I am somehow incapable of facing my father?" She rounded on Dick again, slapping her freehand against his chest plate.

"Stop slapping at me."

"Do you think that because I lack a penis that I am incapable of fighting for the people that I love? That I'm going to fall to pieces the second I'm face to face with that rotten, no good, murdering son of a bitch?"

Tim had never seen her like this. He watched, fascinated, as Raya slapped Batman's chest plate again with her free hand.

"I said stop hitting me." Dick curled his fingers around the hand she was currently slapping against his chest. "If you're finished with your snit...don't even think about it," he warned when he saw the murderous intent that glimmered in her eyes.

"_Snit_? You think this is a _snit_?" She uttered the words in a low, emotionally charged tone. "He murdered my _mother_ you stupid, insulting, aggravating _Batass_!"

_Oh, baby_, Dick thought, feeling a gnawing in his gut that was more than just regret for the things he'd said in his anger or sympathy for the grief he knew was driving her. It was also a cold fury for the man who'd caused her this pain, this hurt. His hands gentled, and his anger became sorrow.

"Jesus, Raya, you've sure picked a helluva time to rip the lid off that jar..."

"It's been bottled inside her for a long, long time." Tim said it in a quietly subdued voice. He reached out to set a hand on her back, felt the shiver she could not hide. "Damian being kidnapped, being back in this house and you pissing her off just managed to blow the lid off."

"I didn't intend for the truth to come out quite like this." Temper shuddered back to twist painfully with grief. "Not when Damian's life is currently at stake."

Tim ran his hand down her back in slow, soothing circles. "The truth doesn't always pick the best time to come out."

Dick felt a chill run through him as a thought occurred to him. This was a cold, cold house, full of secrets and anger and fear.

And _death_.

"He chose to kidnap Damian tonight because it's the anniversary of your mother's death." It wasn't a question. He knew by the expression on her face that he was right. "And he brought him here because he knows that the date, as much as the house, are your kryptonite." Every word he spoke was said somberly. "He knows you'll come after Robin and anticipates that your pain and anger and hatred will cause you to lose enough focus that he will finally be able to deliver his coup de grâce."

"Yes," she said on a heavy sigh.

Dick slid his fingers to the back of her neck, gently massaged the taut muscles.

"You expected your father was going to do something big to mark this anniversary. Bruce being in Metropolis on business gave you an opening in which to push your father into coming after you. You _wanted_ him to come after you, in fact."

She said nothing, saw no point in admitting verbally what all three of them already understood. "Why?" There was a vague note of anger and fear in that single, solitary word. But Raya heard a note of desperation beneath the other emotions that caused her heart to quiver, clench with guilt. "Why would you place yourself in danger like that?"

"To keep my family safe." She laid her hand upon the winged emblem emblazoned on his chest. When Dick glanced down their gazes met. Shared secrets. "I was trying to protect you." The weight of her mistake was resting heavy on her shoulders. She pushed at her hair, and they saw frustration as well as regret. "But my father decided to celebrate by kidnapping Damian instead."

Dick looked down into her eyes. She didn't just look sad and angry, he thought. She looked... _resigned_. Almost as if she knew that this fight could only have one outcome. "You really don't see any other way for this to end, do you?"

Part of her had always known it was going to come down to this. And every time she caught herself thinking-believing it could be any other way, she'd curse herself for being a fool. Her father was never going to stop. Not until _she_ was dead or _he_ was behind bars. She glanced at Tim; saw the future waiting for her in the depths of his eyes. Everything she wanted was standing right in front of her. All she had to do was reach out and grab hold of it, and keep a hold of it.

"No, Dick, I don't." She reached up and laid her fingers against his cheek. "I _have_ to confront him in order to _stop_ him."

Tim angled his head, studied her for a moment, silently contemplative, no longer as confident as he had been about her facing her father. Then he looked at Dick. Saw by his expression that he'd figured out what he, himself had already suspected.

"You know what it is that she has planned, don't you?"

Dick nodded. "Yes."

"We aren't letting her go through with what it is that she has planned, are we?"

Dick looked down into Raya's upturned face. He saw she was resolved, knew she was prepared, and as confident as she could manage given the situation. When her nerves kicked in, she'd use them. If she had doubts, she'd ask for their input, for their help. She had been right about one thing-they were _partners_. More than partners, he told himself. They were best friends. And best friends trusted each other even if they didn't agree about how the other had chosen to handle a situation.

"Yes, we are." He held out his hand. "You ready to do this?"

She kept her eyes on his. He'd always had good eyes. Warm eyes, smart and patient and playful eyes. And trusting him was never a question that she had to ask herself. She trusted him with every fiber of her being. She lifted her hand to his. Smiled when his fingers closed around hers, warm and familiar.

"Ready as I can be." She glanced back at Tim. Saw his uncertainty, his fear. "You asked me to fight earlier," she reminded him. "For you, for what we could build together. Well, this is how it has to be done. Now," she smiled at him. "I'm asking _you_ to trust _me_. And to _help_ me by _fighting_ with me, not against me."

Tim knew he'd lost. He sighed once, heavily. "I'll follow after you two."


	6. Chapter 3c

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but for my original characters Raya Kean/Fenix and Matthew Berkeley as well as the general theme and story concept..

* * *

Damian Wayne sat rigidly, his arms and hands tied behind him by a length of heavy rope, under the watchful eyes of two armed mercenaries and a man who'd introduced himself simply as Mr. Berkeley. Damian knew who Berkeley was, the socially disgraced and ruined former power broker of Gotham's elite that had, in the thirteen years since the scandalous murder of his wife, become one of the kingpins of Gotham's criminal underbelly.

The man was also the father of Raya Kean-longtime friend and partner of Dick Grayson-intermittent Batman and Nightwing and Damian's only true friend in Gotham. The acidic taste of his bitterness mingled with the coppery sweetness of the blood, _his_ blood, he thought savagely, that had seeped into his mouth after Berkeley had dealt him a vicious backhanded slap that'd split his lip.

Damian cast a surreptitious glance at the man seated across from him, trying to understand just how it was that a woman like Raya, whom Damian viewed to be a decent enough martial artist and crime fighter, could have allowed herself to be victimized by this man. At first he saw her inability to stand up to her father-to bring him to justice as a sign of weakness, as another type of her numerous character flaws. But looking into Matthew Berkeley's dark eyes and seeing-_hearing, _the hatred and venom that the man had for his only daughter finally made him understand just how easy it was for someone his age- and who lacked any type of physical and mental training- to find themselves manipulated and trapped. And _abused_.

It shocked and disturbed him, made him want to retch as he listened to the litany of things this man had done- to Raya and her mother, to Dick and Tim, to Commissioner Gordon and Barbara. That Matthew Berkeley Jr. enjoyed hurting people was abundantly clear to the Boy Wonder. The man thrived upon the power, the thrill that hurting others gave him. _And his favorite target is his own daughter_, he thought silently.

It was a bitter tasting dose of reality for the eleven-year-old to have to swallow. While he had grown up in the shadow of his grandfather, Ra's al Ghul, and been indoctrinated with the violent teachings of the League of Assassins by his mother, he had never been abused in any form or fashion. He'd have killed whoever dared to lay a hand upon him, as League laws mandated. And seeing the parental card that Raya had been dealt made him extremely grateful to have the father that he had.

Bruce Wayne was many things as he knew; Pessimistic, cynical, suspicious, antisocial and clearly struggled with conveying his feelings to anyone-most especially his own son. But abusive was definitely not among his innumerable character flaws. _Father would never raise a hand to any of us_, Damian thought, eyes narrowing to slits. _He would never use his greater physical strength to cause us intentional physical harm._

One of the mercenaries jabbed him in the back with the barrel of his rifle to the amusement of his friend. Damian shot him a furious glare, promising retribution, but the thug gave him a dead-eyed predator look, one that didn't impress the masked Robin one bit. With his hands and arms tied behind him and those two assault rifles trained upon him, there was nothing that he could do and they knew it.

No matter how good an escapologist he was, no matter how well trained a warrior he was or how skilled he'd become during his tenure as Robin, Damian was smart enough to know that the moment he got free those guns would open fire and tear his body to shreds. So he was forced to content himself with the knowledge that Dick would be coming for him at any moment and that together, Batman and Robin would unleash their own unique brands of justice upon this motley crew of degenerates.

But if Damian was being honest- really honest, with himself, then he knew that the person he really wanted to come rescue him was his father-the original and venerable Dark Knight himself. But his father was away on business, unaware that his son was currently in the hands of this monster. _But when Father finds out about what this man has done to me, there will be nowhere in the world safe for him to hide_... his thoughts trailed off as an image surfaced in his mind of Berkeley cuffed, bloodied and bruised. It brought a smile to his face just thinking about it.

"Is there something amusing you, little Robin?"

Damian lifted his head and saw that there was a glint in Berkeley's eye that had the hair on the back of his neck bristling. This man was a dangerous, dangerous adversary, on the same level as the Falcone crime family but with a mental twist that put him into the same league as a few of Gotham's super criminals. Berkeley may have looked like his father in a dark blue suit with his dark hair neatly combed back, but that was where the similarities ended.

They were about the same age, he knew, but where Bruce Wayne still possessed the youthful look of a spoiled and pampered playboy, Berkeley looked a decade older than he was. His hair was streaked liberally with gray at the temples. His once handsome face was puffy from years of alcohol abuse, from the madness that permeated his soul. His body was still firm and muscular but he had started to go paunchy around his middle. It was a testament to their different lifestyles, to the different choices they'd made. Bruce Wayne kept himself in top physical condition because it allowed him to fight men like the Joker, like Two-Face and Bane. Berkeley lived a life of over indulgence, treating himself to spa treatments and manicures in order to maintain the illusion of sophistication and wealth.

Lifting his head, he stared into those empty, clear pools and vowed in a cool, calm voice; "I was just thinking about how I am going to break your nose as soon as I get free."

"Do you honestly think that you are going to get free, boy?" Matthew pushed to his feet and walked towards him slowly. "You won't be getting free, that I can assure you." The ends of his lips curved into a slow, vindictive smile. "In fact, I guarantee that you won't be leaving this estate. At least," he added in a slippery tone. "You won't be leaving in the same condition in which you arrived."

"Batman will-"

"What?" Berkeley interjected in a soft voice. "Come for you?" He smiled again. "Oh, I'm hoping Batman does come for you, little Robin," he said. "I cannot kill him otherwise."

The mercenaries laughed as Damian struggled against his bonds. The lead mercenary jabbed him, hard, in the back with the butt of his rifle, knocking his breath out with a whoosh. The other guard laughed raucously. Berkeley himself let out a slight chuckle, clearly amused at the sight of Robin being tortured.

"Now, now boys," he chastised softly. "Is that any way to treat our young friend here?"

"Sorry, boss." The lead flunky said. Damian noted that it was said with contrition, but not, he knew, because the thug felt any sympathy for the pain he had caused him. He slowly lifted his head and fixed the masked man with a hot stare.

"Soon as I get free I am going to snap your neck," he vowed. The gunman scowled and lifted his rifle to hit him again but Berkeley stopped him with a shake of his head.

"We don't want to damage the goods, Niven."

"Aw," the guard whined. "I was just gonna give the brat a little tap on da back of his head."

"I will not tolerate anything ruining my plans for this evening," Matthew said in a dark tone. Niven nodded his head and stepped away from Robin. He knew that tone, knew that it meant trouble for anybody stupid enough to cross the boss. People who worked for Matthew Berkeley Jr. tended to remain alive longer when they kept their mouths shut and did as they were told.

"You call plotting to kill Batman a plan?" Damian snorted. "Every super criminal in Gotham has tried that angle over the years," he sneered. "Why don't you try coming up with something original for crying out loud."

Berkeley clicked his tongue before saying, "_tch tch_. I'd mind that tongue of yours, boy. Or else," he drew a knife from where he'd stuck it in his belt loop, held it up so that Damian could see it. "I will use this to remove that tongue from your mouth."

Damian recognized the talon shaped blade as one of Raya's specially crafted talons. He had no idea where or how Berkeley had gotten his hands upon the hooked projectile, but it was clear that the blade had been sharpened to a razor's edge. Damian's lips peeled back in disgust.

"You should consider yourself lucky that I'm-" he gritted and barely flinched when Berkeley slapped him.

"I said watch your tongue."

"Takes more than a nob-" a grunt escaped at the next slap. But Damian refused to let Berkeley see anything but his anger and disdain. A fact that he saw displeased the crime boss greatly. "Is that the best you've got?" He taunted. "Raya hits harder than you do."

Berkeley held up the kunai, turned it in the light an inch from his cheek. Damian braced himself and met those dark eyes without flinching. Berkeley found himself mildly impressed.

"I find your ability to control your fear and mask your emotions admirable, little Robin," he admitted grudgingly. "Raya would have been weeping and begging for mercy by now. But then," his lips curled into a cruel smile. "That little bitch was always as weak as her whore bitch of a mother."

"So, why have you been unable to kill her then?" Sarcasm coated his every word. "If she's as weak as you claim then you shouldn't have had any problems in killing her." He sniffed his disdain. "Sounds to me like you're the weak one."

Berkeley cursed savagely and reared back his arm, intending to deliver a backhanded slap that would silence the masked twerp when a cold voice stopped him.

"If you lay so much as one finger on my Robin, I will rip your heart out with my bare hands."

The mercenaries cocked their guns, preparing to execute the female intruder on the spot, when two needle-thin bo-shurikens sang through the air, spearing the gunmen in the arm and shoulder, the neutralizing toxin dropping them instantly. Damian's eyes widened in surprise when he saw who his savior was. _Oh, I'd definitely prefer _Drake_ over her_ was his thought. The sounds of high pitched shouts and echoing gunfire rang from somewhere down the hall and told him that she had not come alone.

Raya scanned Damian's face, taking note of the bruise already beginning to darken along his jawline and the dried blood that was at the corner of his mouth. She tamped down on her fury, pushed aside the overwhelming desire to pay her father back for every slap, every bruise and every cut the boy had. She began making her way towards them slowly. Damian finally saw how she had managed to enter the room undetected.

The hidden door had been skillfully built into the wall, the wallpaper, the white oak paneling. He should have realized that this house, much like Wayne Manor, would have its own share of secrets. He allowed himself to wonder about whether or not there was a series of subterranean caves beneath the residence that could better serve as her base of operations here in Gotham. He filed the question away for later, when their lives weren't in the middle of chaos and the answer could be fully explored.

"No…"

A roaring filled his ears as Berkeley slowly turned and gazed upon the young woman standing behind him. He couldn't say her name, could make no sound at all. He prayed that this was just another vision, a hallucination. He went cold to the marrow when that full, wide mouth curved into a smile-Ellen's smile he realized, feeling the familiar burn of anger and hatred in his chest. "You're dead."

But he saw that that dark hair was the same series of long, springy curls around a face of rosé and cream. That that face was still fox-sharp- the narrow, somewhat aristocratic nose, high, sculpted cheeks, tapered chin. That those eyes were the same dark, vibrant shade of green, those lips the same shade of pink. He told himself that this couldn't be his faithless, whore bitch wife. But hatred turned fact into fiction and madness made it impossible for him to differentiate that this woman was his daughter and not his perceived long-dead wife.

"I killed you bitch..." he whispered at the woman standing in front of him. "I killed you."

* * *

Two menacing apparitions, one cloaked in blackest midnight and the other in blood red and shadows, burst into the midst of a group of mercenaries, knocking them down like bowling pins. Batarangs and disc-shaped emblems winged through the air, disarming gunmen and dropping them stunned upon the ground. Batman and Red Robin fought like demons, whirling in synchronized motion, always in constant step with the other. Arms were snapped, ankles were twisted, and bodies sent flying. One after another, battered gunmen hit the floor. Silence descended. Red Robin pressed the button on his bo-staff and stored the weapon in its place on his utility belt. He turned to see Batman standing over a fallen henchman.

"What? No more?" He grinned. "And here I was just starting to have fun." One of the henchmen stirred and groped for his rifle. "Looks like that one didn't get the hint about staying down."

Batman booted the thug in the head. "I'm sure he gets it now."

He then stalked towards Red, his cape fluttering behind him like greedy, grasping fingers. The pointy ears of the cowl cast an ominous shadow upon the walls. Tim found himself struggling with accepting that it was Dick, not Bruce, who was coming towards him. When Dick's eyes blazed with the same rage, grief, and torment that tended to burn in Bruce's, he became the formidable Batman that Gotham's criminals feared most.

"This house is having an effect on you," Tim said in a quiet voice. "Isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Yanno, you cautioned and lectured Raya about how her personal feelings about this house and her father were dangerous. I would say you're personal feelings..."

"Run deep," Dick interjected, nodding. "I admit that this is personal. It's been personal ever since the night he shot me. And not just because he shot me. But because he hurt _her_."

"Dick..."

"No," the older hero said in a firm voice. "You need to hear this, Tim."

It bothered him to see the tidal wave of emotions that swover through those eyes, the hurt and the anger and the hate so tangible that he thought they could reach your and bite him. But he nodded his head, understanding that Dick was giving him a big piece of a puzzle that he had only just begun putting together. "Alright," he said. "Tell me."

"The night that Berkeley shot me, he snapped Raya's arm. Bad enough that it required surgery to repair. And I could do nothing but lay there and watch as he did it," his torment ripped at Tim, cut him deeper than any knife could. But he allowed his brother the respect of bearing his soul by listening, and remaining silent. "I couldn't stop him. I couldn't protect her."

"You were laying on the floor..."

"Doesn't matter, Tim."

No, truth and logic never mattered when it came to someone you love being hurt. Tim knew that just from his dealings with Bruce alone. And nobody carried around more guilt than the Dark Knight.

"For all that you were Robin, and highly skilled and well-trained, you were still only a kid. And fighting a man who was almost more dangerous than the Joker or Two-Face or Penguin. Because this man is not just violent or vicious, he's insane. And that is a deadly foe to contend with."

"I know," Dick sighed. "I'm just worried that I won't be able to stop him from hurting her again. That I still won't be able to protect her."

It was rare to see Dick Grayson doubting himself. Most often he buried his self-doubts beneath sharp and witty banter. But he was also human.

"You have to trust that you will be able to stop him, Dick. That you will be able to protect her. And you need too trust, too believe, that if you aren't able to save or protect her that I will," his lips quirked. "Or Bruce will. Or that _she_ will. Raya is capable of handling herself. And she knows her father, knows his weaknesses. Why else would she remove her mask? Her armor? It's because she knows that the resemblance she bears to her mother will throw Berkeley off, make him more suspectible to making a mistake that we can use to get Robin outta danger."

Dick knew that Tim was right. But a part of him, a dark and terrible part he couldn't silence no matter how much he tried too, reminded him that her two weaknesses were Robins and the members of the Batfamily. And her father was not only holding a Robin right now, but the son of Bruce Wayne, whom Raya had the biggest soft spot for.

"C'mon," he said finally. "Raya has had more than enough time to get into the bedroom and neutralize the two guards that were in there."

Tim nodded and together they headed out into the hall. More guards waited for theat around the bend. Two stood with guns cocked while a handful of others waited behind them. The gunmen opened fire. Muzzle flares lit up the shadowy hallway. Bullets ate away at the walls, chipping away at the paint and pelting Batman's face and chest with bits of plaster. If it weren't for the auditory filters built into the cowl, the sound would have been deafening. The acrid smell of cordite was thick upon the stale, musty air. Batman launched a grappling line at the same time Red Robin fired his, each hooking an armed gunmen and disarming them before taking them down with jaw-breaking force.

The remaining guards, immobilized by fear at the sight of not just one but two of Gotham's masked crime fighters standing in the middle of the hall were easy prey. Batman and Red Robin neutralized them before they even had a chance to think about fighting. Unconscious bodies soon littered the hallway of the mansions east wing. Batman and Red Robin continued on their way, neutralizing guards as they went before turning into a bedroom that was at the end of the hall. Batman frowned when he saw that the room was empty.

"Where the hell are they?" Red was right behind Batman, and clearly confused, given how adamant Raya had been about where it was that she figured her father was holding Damian. "Didn't she say the bedroom at the end of the short hallway?"

"This isn't the bedroom at the end of the short hallway." Batman gritted. "_Raya's_ bedroom is at the end of the short hallway."

"Raya's bedroom..." Red said slowly. Like him, Tim had figured that Robin was going to be held in the room where Raya's mother had been shot. That Berkeley had chosen her old bedroom could only mean one thing. "Berkeley shot you in her bedroom, didn't he?"

Batman growled a one word answer; "Yes."


	7. Chapter 3d

**Disclaimer: **Own nothing but for Raya and the concept of my story…

**A/N:** The Penal Code I utilize is taken from California penal code 632. I wanted it to sound as _authentic_ as I could which is why I chose to use my State's actual code.

* * *

_Cont..._

Damian's blood curdled as he saw the dead and silent stare in Berkeley's eyes. And the sheer emptiness of it scuttled along his skin. Damian realized that this man was a textbook sociopath, with a few additional psychoses, neuroses and violent tendencies tossed into the mix. He was the Joker with the financial resources of the Penguin and a social stature to match.

"Setting the stage for an insanity defense, are we?" Raya had seen how his eyes had gone empty, knew that seeing her unmasked would tilt his grip upon sanity.

It was a calculated ploy, she knew. A calculated and very dangerous ploy considering that she was not only gambling with her life, but Damian's as well. But she wanted to throw her father off balance, needed to keep him distracted while waiting for Batman and Red to join them.

"It won't work you know," her smile was cold as winter. "Everyone knows that you're not insane. A cold-blooded murderer? A wife-beater? A child-abuser? Well, we know the answers to those questions, now don't we?"

At her accusations, those dark, sightless eyes flickered and the hand vised on the blade that he held still. She's definitely getting a rise out of him, Damian thought and scooted himself into a position where he could use his legs to take Berkeley down if needs be.

"Raya."

The voice was raspy, hardly more than a whisper. Damian told himself that that was why he felt a cold finger trail its way down his spine.

"I'm going to kill you, bitch. But I'm going to make you suffer first. Know how?"

There was something almost reasonable in his voice, something sane to counter the madness." I'm going to make you watch as I kill Batman, Robin and that other masked whelp."

Raya felt her long-burning anger and hatred for this man rising to dangerous proportions. But she tamped down the fury, buried the fear and kept her focus on her objective: getting Robin free.

"You've tried to kill Batman and the Robins' before. And have failed each time that you've tried. What makes you think that you will succeed this time?"

"I've spared no expense this time. I've hired only the best guards and outfitted them with the best weapons that money could buy."

Robin snorted derisively. "Like the Joker and Penguin-"

"Quiet." Matthew commanded. He held up the blade. "Or I will use this to shut your little birdie up."

"No, you won't."

"Oh? And who is going to stop me? _You_?" He laughed. "Please, you've failed every time that you've tried to stop me. In fact, wasn't it your fault that the first Boy Blunder got shot?"

Instinctively, Damian knew that Berkeley couldn't have said anything more damaging. He didn't know what all had happened the night that Dick was shot, or the entire reason why it'd happened, but he'd heard Dick mention the night often enough to know that it was the main reason behind why Raya could not bring herself face-to-face with his father. And he could see by the sweep of charged emotions that flickered across her face that the words were doing what Berkeley intended for them to do: knocking her off balance. _Come on, Kean_, he thought silently. _I'll lose what little respect I have for you if you let this guy beat you this easily._

* * *

Dick heard Berkeley's words as soon as he entered the room. And knew that they were having their desired effect upon Raya. He didn't need to look at her face to know that it was white as a sheet. Or that her eyes were filled with a low simmering anger, a deep-rooted hatred and a bottomless wealth of disgust. All aimed at herself. Because she held herself accountable, blamed herself for what had happened in this room ten years ago. It was the largest reason for why she could not face Bruce, and the greatest reason behind why he'd yet to tell Bruce she was home. He knew she was terrified of looking into those eyes and seeing the thoughts and feelings she was aiming at herself reflected back at her.

That Berkeley was utilizing that night as his final throw of the dice a ball of rage coursing through him. A rage he'd only felt once before and which had led him to nearly breaking their families one rule about not killing. If Batman had not arrived when he had... he let the thought linger, used it to help him contain the storm of emotions sweeping through him. But he was so damn tempted to give in. His torment must have been reflected upon his face, for when he made to step forward, Tim set a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. Dick glanced; glared would be more like it, at him.

"I know what you're thinking," Tim spoke gently. "And I understand why you are thinking it. That man, this house, the memory of that night are eating away at you right now. But you know that it is not our way to kill. Just as you know that she would not want you to kill him."

He did know that. And while it worked to bring the rage to a manageable level, it did not alleviate his fear. Or his worry. Of the pain he was feeling watching

"Am I to do nothing then?"

"Yes," came the quiet reply. "It is up to her to finally face her fear and rise from it. Same as you had to do. Same as I had to do. And the same as _he_ had to do."

_Rise_. It was the second mantra of this family. To take what you feared most and utilize it to make you strong. To rise above the fear and become better for it. Dick knew that, just as he knew that it was exactly what Bruce would have told him were he there with them. His lips crooked at the corners.

"You're beginning to sound more and more like him everyday, you know that?"

"I know," he saw a faint smile curve the other man's lips. "It's beginning to worry me, too."

* * *

_You cannot let him beat you like this._

_You cannot let him win. _

_The Fenix has to rise._

You___ have to rise. _

She kept telling herself that. Over and over she told herself that she had to rise. But goddamn it, how was she supposed to rise above the flow of anger and hate and disgust hammering at her? How was she supposed to forget how her arrogance, her stupidity and her irresponsibility was the reason why Dick got shot, why he'd almost died, was why _Bruce_ had nearly lost... and her thoughts trailed off as the answer finally dawned on her. She could rise because she wasn't repeating the same c_ircle_. She wasn't making the same mistakes, or falling victim to the same fatal flaws. Nor had she come _alone_. Her head lifted and she met Dick's eyes, saw the dark tide of emotions stamped upon his face. _My best friend_. Then she glanced at Tim. _My partner_. Finally she looked at Damian. _My Robin_.

She turned her attention to her father. "You're right," she said, nodding. "That night was _my_ fault. And I will bear the reminders of it for the rest of my life. But tonight is not that night and I am not fated to again make the biggest mistake that I made that night: coming alone."

Realizing that Batman or Red Robin or both was behind him, Berkeley dragged Robin up, pressed the point of the knife to his throat.

"Do you think I am going to be defeated that easily?"

"Let Robin go, Berkeley," Batman growled. "Now."

"I will slit his throat, Batman. If you don't move away from that door, I will slit little Robin's throat." Matthew's eyes passed from Raya's to Batman's to Red Robin's. "And I won't hesitate to do it."

"Hurt him, and see what happens," Red growled the warning.

Raya saw the fury stamped upon Damian's face, read the intent shimmering with the hate in his eyes and shook her head at him. _Stay still_, she mouthed to him. He glared balefully at her but complied. _Soon though_, he promised. He'd have his vengeance soon. He couldn't wait.

"You're going to do exactly as I say." Matthew pressed the blade deeper. "If you don't, I'll kill the boy."

"Let him go." Raya took another step forward. "Drop the blade and step away from Robin. Do it. _Now_."

His head snapped up when he heard the echoes of authority and compulsion that sang in her voice. This self-assured and composed woman was not the overwrought and sniveling weakling he'd anticipated, that he'd wanted. This woman was a stranger to him, a dark and dangerous entity that he neither knew nor liked.

"You aren't afraid." There was as much bafflement as rage in his voice. "You're supposed to be afraid."

"Oh, there you're wrong," Raya countered with a slight shake of her head. "I _am_ afraid. I'm terrified that you will hurt my family and friends. I'm afraid of you stealing them from me as _you_ stole mother my from me."

"How it must burn. Knowing who it was that murdered your mother but being able to do nothing about it." His voice was a silky purr. "There's no forensic evidence to prove that I was the one who shot the gun that killed your mother and no witnesses left alive to testify to having seen me pull the trigger."

Raya's lips curved as she lifted her head, looked over at Batman. "No forensics," she said to him. "But I think a full confession suffices, don't you?"

"And if I know my Robin as well as I think I do..." his teeth flashed for a moment. "I know he always thinks on his feet. Which means he's recorded everything that Berkeley told him tonight. And that would include the full details of what happened the night your mother was murdered. Because as we both know, psychopaths just can't resist bragging about their exploits." Batman spoke in a soft voice, over the sharp, clipped command from Berkeley to step away from the door. "Am I right, Robin?"

Robin snorted. "Of course."

"Gotham's Penal Code, section 632 protects confidential communication," Matthew snapped. "And says that no evidence '_obtained as a result of eavesdropping upon or recording a confidential communication in violation of this section shall be admissible in any judicial, administrative, legislative, or other proceeding_.' It will be thrown out and you know it."

"Ah, but the exception to that rule applies when the evidence obtained can be considered '_objectively reasonable_.' Raya said coolly. "And you volunteered the information while engaged in '_threatening and assaultive conduct'_. No court in this country would find your statements to be covered by that statute and would see them as testament of your culpability and involvement in the kidnapping of, and assault upon the minor in question." Her smile could have frozen ice cubes. "It also can be used to show intent, and establishes a history of violent behavior."

Matthew jerked Damian's head back another inch with the blade.

"Destroy the tape or else we are going to find out just how long it takes this little birdie to bleed to death!"

But Damian had had enough.

"Let me go or I am going to take you apart, piece by piece," he said in a cold, deadly voice. "I will stick that knife in your thigh, in your neck, in your gut. And I will stand over you and watch as you bleed to death."

The color that rage and madness brought to Matthew's face drained away. He believed what he heard in the boy's voice. He believed that pain and death awaited him at the boy's hands, and he was afraid. His hand trembled on the handle of the knife.

"You won't kill me, little Robin." He said it with a confidence he did not feel. "My daughter won't let you kill me. She wants me alive so she can lock me in a prison cell for the rest of my life."

"What you've always failed to realize," Raya's voice was calm as a midsummer's rain. She took another step, told herself that she only had to reach out and grab hold of Damian, pull him to safety so that Batman and Red could take her father down. "Is that at no point in time do I have to _choose_ to save you."

Matthew's breath hissed like a snake. Red read the madman's intent at the same time she did. Raya emptied her mind of everything but her goal to get Damian away from the man holding him, knew that no matter what else happened that the son of a bitch was not taking someone away from her again. She watched him lift up his arm, knew she had mere seconds in which to act. The blade came slashing down as Red reached for one of his emblem throwing disks at the same time Batman let a batarang fly. Placing her faith in Batman and Red Robin, Raya yanked Robin against her with one arm and twisted to the side, pitting herself between the boy and the blade.

The blade ripped through her shoulder rather than plunged into the boy's back, the surprising bite of the pain eliciting a gasp and forcing her down to one knee. Matthew smiled maniacally and lifted the knife again, imagined plunging it into her back and ridding himself of her forever. The batarang clipped him in the back of his head before he could bring the blade down, knocking him face down on the floor and stunning him. The kunai skittered harmlessly across the floor, bounced against the tip of Robin's boot and remained there. She heard both Batman and Red yell her name, heard their worry and fear and anger and sent them both a reassuring glance.

"I'm alright," she said quietly to them. "Just get my father into restraints. I don't want him escaping now that we've finally got the son of a bitch."

Red knew she'd never admit that the pain was like teeth gnawing at her shoulder. Blood was dripping down her arm, coating her hand and seeping into Damian's tunic. But her eyes, he realized, were filled with the kind of relief that only came from finally seeing AA nightmare end.

"Stay with her," Batman told Robin. "Gordon will be here in two minutes to Mirandize Berkeley, then I want you both going to the cave and getting checked out."

Raya watched as he walked towards her father, taking out zip ties as he went. He needed to do this, she told herself, and she was going to let him. She cut the ropes binding Damian's hands before turning the boy towards her. His face, she saw, was bone white beneath the mottle of bruises already forming, creeping black over his skin.

"Are you alright?" she asked him.

Damian could do nothing more than nod. Blood—her blood- dripped down onto his hand and he looked down at it, curled his fist over it, and felt emotions surge powerfully inside him. That she had come for him, risked her life after everything he'd done and said—to her, to Dick and most especially to Tim- had guilt and shame pounding inside him. Raya saw the play of emotions that flickered over his face-the hatred and anger, the guilt and the fear.

"It's over, Robin." She laid a comforting hand upon his shoulder. "He will not hurt you, or anyone else ever again."

Damian bent and picked up the talon that lay by his foot. His training as an assassin urged him to use the blade to kill the man who had laid a hand upon him, upon her. Eye for an eye, he thought as his fingers clenched on the handle of the blade. But the voices of his father, of Dick, of Alfred told him that killing Berkeley was not the answer, that it wasn't the way in which justice was served. Raya saw the battle raging inside him and crouched down in front of him.

"Don't kill him," she said quietly. "Not like this. It would not be good for you." She could see the intent was still there, especially when Matthew began moaning as he slowly regained consciousness.

He mumbled something that sounded like, "faithless bitch", but then fell silent.

She didn't even spare him a glance, just said to Robin; "To kill him now, when he has already been beaten, would be dishonorable."

"But it would be rightful justice."

"Giving him death..." she said quietly. "Does not give us justice."

"He deserves death," he insisted stubbornly. "He murdered your mother."

"Killing him will not bring my mother back."

"He's a monster."

"Killing him would make _you_ a monster." She framed his face with her hands. Stared directly into his eyes and asked, "don't you know why your father has never killed the Joker?"

Damian snorted. "He says it's because it would make him no better than the Joker."

"No." She corrected gently. "It's because he knows how easy it would be _for_ him to kill the Joker."

She saw he didn't completely accept that that was the true reason behind why Batman had never murdered his greatest nemesis. He sniffed and looked away, his manner of dismissing her and a topic he found disagreeable. She told herself that the more he was around his father and brothers, the more that those sharp and brutal edges he'd obtained while with the League would soften. They heard shouts come from downstairs and feet running down the hall towards them.

"And that would be our cue to leave."

Damian found himself unable to do more than nod. He allowed himself to be led from the room, oddly comforted by the feel of her hand on his back. He told himself that he'd figure out why later.


	8. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but for Raya/Fenix and the general concept of story.

* * *

A few hours later, long after the eye of the storm passed over Gotham, before dawn even broke the sky, Raya stood on the penthouse balcony, wrapped loosely in Tim's arms, her head resting back against his chest. He'd convinced her to come back here to Wayne Towers with them, to stay the night at the penthouse, to let him take care of her following the extreme emotional events of the previous night. She'd finally confronted her father, finally taken back a piece of herself and seen justice finally given to the woman who'd long since had that justice denied to her.

She felt lighter, freer, as if a great weight had been lifted from off her shoulders, off her heart. The dark cloud that had hung over her, over her life for the last twelve years, had been lifted. She was finally, finally _free_. Life and happiness bubbled inside her, had her sighing with contentment. Tim heard her sigh and angled his head to look at her. The smile he saw on her face was so dazzling that it sent a spear of light shooting all the way through him, chasing away the fear and anger that still lingered, even now that she was here and safe in his arms.

"You're _happy_."

She leaned her head back and looked at him, gave him another dazzling smile.

"I'm beyond happy, Tim. I'm _free_."

She cupped the back of his neck, drew his head down. The kiss spun out, full of promise and possibilities. And _hope_. But the overwhelming joy and sense of being free refused to be contained within her, however. A giggle nearly burst from Raya's throat as she broke the kiss. For a moment it sparkled in her eyes, upon her face.

"We won," she said softly. "We played my father's game and we won." The words were said on a laugh. "We _won_."

"That we did." Caught up in her light-hearted mood, which was extremely rare, Tim slid his arms around her waist, drew her up to her toes and held tight. "But while we might have beaten him, the victory did not come without casualty. Don't forget that."

"No battle is ever won without there being casualties on both ends," she pointed out gently. "You know as well as I do that all wars have consequences that must not only be dealt with but accepted, understood. Especially in this war," her tone became edgy, tight with pain and blood-splattered memories. "Where bodies became like chess pieces."

Tim understood better than anyone about no war coming without consequences. In the past three years he'd been a firsthand witness of how devastating the consequences of war could be. He'd yet to have come to terms with the consequences of the last war in which he'd engaged.

"I wish you'd have gone to the clinic so Dr. Thompkins could take a look at your shoulder," he said.

"Alfred knows the business end of a suture kit, Tim. He's been stitching up the injuries suffered by this family for years. Besides," she added with an impish grin. "It was only twenty-five stitches. Minor suturing in comparison to some of the suture jobs that you, Dick and Bruce have required him to do over the years."

_Twenty-five stitches_, he thought. Twenty-five stitches to close a long, nasty gash. It was a surprise that no muscle or tendon had been severed when the kunai ripped through her flesh. Alfred had said it was a miracle. Tim considered it a stroke of luck and quick-thinking on Raya's part. He reached up to touch the snow white bandage, then slid his hand down her arm into hers, interlocked their fingers.

"You took a huge chance tonight."

"I had no other choice. It was either let him plunge the blade into Damian's back," she told him, and lifting her head, looked into his eyes. "Or put myself in the path of the blade. I didn't even stop to think about or consider what my choice was going to be." She squeezed his fingers. "It was clear what my choice was going to be."

No, she wouldn't have stopped to consider-think about what her choice was going to be. When it came to her Robins, especially the youngest Robin, Raya was blind. She'd proven countless times how she would do anything and everything necessary in order to protect them. And like tonight, she'd damned the consequences or the risks to herself.

"You could have been killed tonight."

"I could have been, yes," she said, nodding. "But it was a risk worth taking. It was Damian's life in jeopardy, Damian's life that was about to be forfeit, Damian's life about to be taken." She turned in his arms and looked into his eyes. "I couldn't allow that to happen, Tim. I couldn't allow Damian to become my father's next victim."

"I know you couldn't allow that to happen. And I knew what you were going to do the second that your father grabbed hold of Damian and put that knife to his throat. But an instant before you twisted to the side I saw, in my head, that blade coming down towards your chest, piercing through your heart. I saw _your_ death, Raya," his arms tightened about her. "And I was terrified I was about to lose you." He rest his forehead against hers. "I've only just found you," he whispered in a tight voice. "I'm not ready to lose you."

She rubbed his back in slow, soothing circles. "I had faith that you and Dick were smarter, faster than my father was. I knew that you wouldn't let anything happen to either Damian or myself."

"Still scared the shit outta me."

_And out of Damian_, he realized, a thoughtful frown knitting his brow. Tim had only seen Damian that pale, that shaken up right after Bruce's death. But his reaction then had been understandable, Bruce was his father and as much as Damian tried to act like he didn't, he did love him. But Raya was nothing to the boy, was someone that Damian normally treated as not being worth either his notice or his regard.

But the little twerp had been acting strangely ever since they'd returned to the penthouse. His face had revealed nothing-which was not that unusual to Tim's way of thinking- and Damian had said nothing to indicate what exactly his internal thoughts were, but it was clear that what had happened at the Berkeley Estate had had a profound impact upon the youngest Wayne family member.

"Scared the shit outta Dick as well."

"I know. And I'm sorry for scaring the both of you as I did. But it was the only way that this circle could be completed. I had to return to the night and to the place where my nightmare began. And I had to change the original outcome in order for the nightmare to end."

"You needed to save Damian as you couldn't save your mother."

"Yes."

It was the piece of herself she'd needed to take back. Like Dick and Bruce, Raya blamed herself for her mother's death. She'd convinced herself that her father had murdered her mother _because_ she'd talked to her uncle, because she'd not only told him about her father's dealings with the mafia but admitted to the abuse that was going on behind the closed doors of the Estate. She'd shattered the social illusion that Matthew Berkeley had carefully created and he'd made her pay by taking away someone that had meant everything to her. He looked down into her upturned face.

"That's why you weren't afraid," he said. "You knew that there was no way the cycle of death was going to be repeated. You weren't a scared kid that was all alone with a monster."

"Oh, I was terrified, Tim," she corrected gently. "I was drowning in fear the minute I saw my father, heard his voice in fact. It took away everything I'd built, everything I'd worked to become. My fear paralyzed me, sucked out my confidence and will, stole away every piece of knowledge and skill I'd acquired. That was his power over me. But it all slowly began to come back. When I saw how he'd hurt Damian-how he was about to hurt him, it came back in a flood. I began to see things clearly once more. And I began thinking clearly once more as well."

"It was him hurting Damian as he used to hurt you that reignited the fire and allowed the Fenix to rise."

"Yes."

He touched her face, gently. The bruises that had graced that face had long since healed but the memories of them still caused his own face to throb. "He'll never hurt you or anyone else ever again," he promised in a soft voice. "Your uncle took your father into custody and made sure _he_ was the one who drove him down to the GCPD building. He even booked Matthew Berkeley in personally."

Raya could well imagine that James Gordon loved being the one to lock her father in one of the GCPD's many holding cells. The last thirteen years had been a nightmare for him as well, waiting and watching for the time when her father made a mistake and could be locked away permanently.

"I'm not afraid of my father anymore," she said to him. "He looked pathetic at the end, eaten alive by his own madness and cruelty. He was consumed by the monster lurking within him. He's nothing now but another bad guy that we've brought to justice."

Tim could still see Matthew Berkeley Jr.'s dark eyes, wild with his madness and wide with fear in a flaccid face that was white as a bone. "A cell is going to be his home for the rest of his life."

If it took his dying breath, he swore that Matthew Berkeley would never again see the light of day. And he knew that Dick would happily agree with him, would do everything he had to, to ensure that Berkeley was never again set free.

"A cell is where he belongs," Raya stated in a hard voice. "Life inside a cage is the only fitting justice for someone who has wreaked so many lives and caused nothing but pain and misery."

"Don't let Damian hear you say that," he said in a teasing tone. "He'd argue that death is the only fitting justice after everything that your father has done."

She well knew what Damian's opinion would be on the subject. They'd had a long and heated discussion on their way to the penthouse about how her father had not only deserved to die for what he'd done, but how it was cowardly of her to not be the one who delivered death to him. A part of her, a deep and dark and ugly part that she worked fervently to contain, had silently agreed.

But the core of her, the heart that beat and bled for truth and justice had whispered to her that death was nothing but an act of mercy. Matthew Berkeley deserved to suffer for all the evil he'd wrought. The image of Damian with the tip of her kunai to his throat rose up to torment her, caused her to shiver. Tim felt her tremble and wrapped her in his arms more tightly.

"It's going to take me a long time to get the image of Damian with my talon at his throat out of my head." She sighed and rest her cheek against his chest. "I don't know if a lifetime is long enough to make that image go away really."

He stroked her hair. "You have a lifetime ahead of you in which to put other images in its place. I want to help you replace all those negative images in your head with positive ones. And I want to get started on that future we talked about last night. In fact," he leaned away to look at her. "I was thinking that a good place for us to start building that future is for us to do something _other_ than hunt bad guys and prowl Gotham's rooftops."

Raya's lips curved in amusement. "Is that your subtle way of asking me out on a date?"

"That's my way of saying that I'd like to do normal things like going out to dinner and a movie with you, yes," he said dryly.

"You realize that nothing in our lives allows for _normal_, right?" Her good arm slid around his neck, her body fit to his easily. And set off aches within him that pounded harder than a slew of armored thugs with baseball bats. "The sheer concept of the two of us going out to dinner and a movie lies in direct contention with us being masked crime fighters that prowl the roofs of Gotham for the bad guys. Bad guys, I feel compelled to remind you, that do not play quietly amongst themselves _ever_."

"Then we'll improvise," he said. "We'll have dinner here at the penthouse—I'm sure Alfred can whip up something tasty- and watch _Arsenic and Old Lace_. That way we are close to base if the criminals decide that they can't play quietly amongst themselves."

Raya knew that going out on an official date was the logical of first steps for them to take. A date, she told herself, would help to identify whether what they were feeling for each other was something that had been born out of their friendship, or was being influenced by the traumas they'd experienced in the past few years as well as the otherwise uncomplicated nature of their crime fighting partnership. And didn't, she asked herself as she looked into those blue eyes, beating her father and taking back her life include normal things like dating and falling in love, forming intimate interpersonal relationships?

Hadn't she promised herself that once her father was out of her life that she'd start thinking about all those tomorrows she'd been ignoring? Everything inside her was twisting and spinning around, brighter than the moon and the stars. But at the heart of it was one truth: she was free. _Free_, she thought, feeling another giggle threatening to burst out of her. _I don't have to deny my needs or wants anymore. I don't have to hide my heart for fear of my father stealing that person away from me_. She linked her hands behind his neck in an embrace that was simple and sheer affection.

"I think a date night at home is a perfect idea. But we'll have it at my apartment bird boy," she stated in a firm voice. "Where _we'll_ do the cooking and the cleaning."

Tim released the breath he'd been holding while waiting for her response. "I can live with that."

And considering that she hadn't outright refused nor recanted what she'd told him the night before, doing the cooking and cleaning was a small concession to make. They would, he realized as he lowered his head and kissed her, be having their very first _official_ date. And he was damn sure going to do everything in his power to ensure that it wasn't their _only_ one.


	9. Chapter 4a

Damian chose that moment to walk out onto the balcony, desiring nothing more than a quiet spot in which to brood for five minutes without someone asking him if he was alright. Of _course_ he wasn't alright; he thought as he stalked to the railing and stared moodily out over Gotham. Everything he'd thought- believed, had been completely changed by the things he'd seen and heard that night. Thick waves of guilt and shame had been hammering at him, pulsating within every nerve fiber of his body since the moment Raya pitted her body between him and the blade that'd meant certain death.

He didn't much like the way he was thinking and feeling and put the blame for his turbulent emotions squarely on the shoulders of the woman responsible for them. Nothing he'd thought, believed, or _knew_ about Raya Kean was even remotely true he realized, watching as the first streaks of color announced dawn. Raya was by no means the coward or weakling he'd assumed, was far more honorable a warrior than he'd given her credit for, had proven herself to be vastly more intelligent than he'd believed her to be.

Until that night Raya had been nothing but an annoying nuisance, someone he put up with because of his friendship and partnership with Dick. But now he didn't know what to think, wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel or in what way he was supposed to act towards her. _This is all her fault_, he thought sullenly. But even as he thought it he was stricken by another pounding wave of shame and guilt that left him even more shaken and confused, and more than a little annoyed.

He turned to stalk towards a chair but stopped short when he saw that he wasn't alone. Drake was out here, the simmering eleven-year-old saw, and he wasn't alone. _Raya_ was with him. They were currently wrapped around each other, he thought, like moss on an oak tree. Wrapped around each other and quite wrapped up _in_ each other as well he thought with rising disgust.

"Geez, get a room," he muttered before turning to stomp back into the apartment.

_Bang_!

Tim and Raya sprang apart a few seconds after the glass door slammed shut.

"What the hell was that about?" Tim wondered aloud.

"I think Damian came out and caught us kissing. And was letting us know how exactly he felt about it."

As she turned to look through the glass, she spotted the small figure stalking across the living room to the couch. _Oh my_, she thought while stepping away from Tim, _that kid has certainly got Bruce's moodiness down to an art_. Her face softened, and she laughed softly.

"That boy is his father through and through, I swear."

Tim grinned. "Bruce hates when we point that fact out to him."

"Nobody likes having their flaws pointed out to them," she said primly. "And it's not like Bruce can avoid seeing his flaws when those flaws appear in the form of a living, breathing miniature version of himself."

"A living, breathing miniature version whom also happens to be the son of Talia al Ghul. And the grandson of Ra's al Ghul," he added a second later. "The kid was screwed from the start in terms of inheritable personality traits."

"I only see Bruce when I look at Damian."

Tim smiled and brushed a soft kiss to her forehead. "That's because you're blinded by your feelings for Bruce. If you weren't you'd find Damian to be an obnoxious little twerp."

"Oh, I still find him to be an obnoxious little twerp," she said, smiling. "Especially when he's cutting your swing rope or being mouthy and disrespectful towards Dick." She leaned up to give him a quick, smacking kiss. "I just tend to forgive him for those lapses because I figure that's when both sides of his nature are in direct contention with the other. And we know how stubborn both sides of his nature are."

"He drains my optimism really," Tim admitted on a sigh. "I don't think in terms of _if_ he will attack me again but more along the lines of _when_ he will attack me again. And that's a sad way to think about things, I know," he said before she could say anything. "Kids essentially my brother and I have to worry about when and where he's going to try and kill me."

She looped her arms around his neck once again, smiled up into his disgruntled face. "Would chocolate chip pancakes help to restore your flagging optimism my darling Robin?"

He lifted his eyebrows. "And is there going to be whipped cream and bananas on said chocolate chip pancakes?"

She leaned in, nipped at his bottom lip. "Of course."

He surprised a quick laugh out of her when he swung her into his arms and carried her into the apartment. They passed Damian, who tossed them a look of disgust from over his shoulder before he turned back towards the television. He was, Raya saw, currently beating up a video game character that she thought suspiciously resembled Tim in his Red Robin gear.

"Looks like he's not only planning out the next time for _when_ he's going to attack you," she whispered in Tim's ear. "But working out _how_ exactly he is going to attack you as well."

"Do I look surprised that he's planning the next when and how?" Tim said dryly. He set her down by the breakfast nook. "Nope. Told ya, kid drains my optimism."

"Who drains your optimism?" Dick asked as he came strolling into the kitchen. "Or do I already know?"

Tim went to the refrigerator to start getting out the items Raya would need to make breakfast.

"Oh, it's just the usual," he said cheerfully. "Damian planning the when and how of his next attack on me."

Dick glanced over at his youngest brother, knew by the dark scowl upon his face that his temper was on a low boil. He was really too tired to play peace keeper between Damian and Tim but knew it was up to him to maintain order and peace while Bruce was out of town. Raya turned to look at him, saw that his face was lined with fatigue and edged by pain and sorrow. It hurt to see _him_ hurting, to know that she was the cause for his pain, for his suffering.

And because it did hurt she went to him, slid her arms around him in an embrace meant to comfort and soothe and said softly; "I'm so sorry for hurting you tonight, Dick. It was never my intention to hurt you-any of you. And it kills me knowing that I did."

"Hey." Dick ran a hand through her hair, then framed her face. "You did what you needed to do in order to obtain justice. I understand that." His lips quirked. "But could you do me a favor the next time a situation like this occurs?"

"Anything. Just name it."

"Don't put yourself _directly_ in the path of the madman that's wielding the kunai." He pulled her close for a moment. "It scared the shit outta me when I saw that blade rip into your shoulder."

"I had no other choice, Dick. The only way to protect Damian and complete the circle I needed was for me to be willing to make the ultimate sacrifice." Nothing, she thought, ever felt quite as steady and solid to her as Dick Grayson. He was her rock, her foundation of strength and support, her _best friend_. They'd literally been through the fire together and were stronger for it.

"But I promise to not make a habit of putting myself in the path of danger." The smile she gave him was filled with painful remorse. "I'm not ashamed to admit that my shoulder hurts like the very devil right now."

"I can imagine that it does."

She angled her head to look at him, joked in a slightly strained voice; "yanno, now would be a good time to ask me for a car or a pony or a gold Rolex or something..."

Dick chuckled and hugged her tight. "How about you make your chocolate chip pancakes with whip cream and cherries and we'll call it even?"

"Deal." Her lips curved. "But I think I'm getting off way to easy here. Sure that you don't wanna ask for something bigger than pancakes?"

Dick ran his hand over the cap of her hair. "As much as I might like to use your overwhelming guilt to snip your wings for a while," he chuckled when he saw the horrified expression on her face. "I'm not quite that mean. Not that I believe you'd obey that particular directive for long." His eyes shimmered for a moment with mischief. "It's not in your DNA to obey."

"Wait until Bruce finds out about what happened while he was in Metropolis," Tim teased. "She'll be grounded to the cave for an indeterminate amount of time and won't have any choice _but_ to obey."

Raya pulled a face. "Quit reminding me about the dark and damp cave I'm gonna be caged up in once Bruce learns I'm back, Timothy."

She turned and saw that all the ingredients she'd need for the pancakes had been set neatly on the counter. She smiled at him as she moved to the counter and set a large mixing bowl in front of her. "Thank you for getting everything out for me."

"Least I can do since you're operating with a damaged wing." He reached up and took a pan down from the rack, set it on the stove. "Is there anything else I can do to help?"

Her lips curved. "Yes. Go do something _guy-ish_ with Dick."

"Something _guy-ish_?" Tim glanced over at his older brother, saw his lips trembling with laughter. "Would ya listen to her? After all she's put us through, here she is bootin' us outta our own kitchen and tellin' us to go do something _guy-ish_."

Dick snorted out a laugh and glanced over at Damian. The boy had turned off his video game and begun to creep closer, his interest piqued by what was going on in the kitchen. He looked over at Tim.

"That's code for get _you_ out of here so that she can talk with Damian without the worry or concern that one of you will reach for the knife block," he said in a low tone. "And considering that she's the one he wants to talk to anyway…" he let his voice trail off.

Tim used putting the milk back into the fridge as a means of surreptitiously looking to see where Damian was, and what the twerp was up to. He saw that he'd moved to the chair closest to the kitchen but with his back turned he couldn't tell what exact mood he was in.

"I see that he's at least stopped beating up my video game incarnation," he remarked dryly. "But why do you think he wants to talk with Raya?"

"I'm the one who got injured while protecting him." She began measuring ingredients and pouring them into the bowl. "And he's having a hard time with reconciling the things he saw and heard tonight with what he thought he knew."

"But we've protected him countless times in the past."

"Which is why he'd be able to easily rationalize why you risked yourselves," she said. "But he can't figure out why _I_ did it. Everything he thought he knew about me is in contradictions right now." She picked up the bag of chocolate chips, opened them and poured them into the batter. "And that's driving my baby bird nuts."

Dick saw her struggle with stirring the thick batter and gently took the spoon away from her. When Raya merely looked at him with lifted brows, he said quietly; "if I've come to understand Damian as well as I'd like to think I have, he's feeling as guilt-ridden as you are about what happened. Use that guilt to lure him in here to help you."

"Why, Richard Grayson," Raya teased. "That is absolutely beyond deceitful." She leaned up to kiss his cheek. "I love it."

Dick grinned. "I figured you would." He glanced at Tim. "Okay, let's go do something _guy-ish_ while we wait for breakfast."

"Sure," Tim replied with a grin. "We can go fight over a raw, meaty bone out on the balcony or something."

Raya couldn't stop the giggle that burst from her throat. Dick heard her laugh, saw the way her eyes sparkled with joy, with life. He hadn't seen her that carefree, hadn't heard her laugh that gaily in a long time. _Maybe now would be a good time to tell Bruce she's back_. He pondered that as he followed Tim out onto the balcony.

Raya glanced over at where Damian was sitting, saw that he was watching Tim and Dick with such a look of longing on his face that it broke her heart. _He so wants to belong and be part of their circle_, she thought. Well, she wanted to see that too and made a note to talk with both Dick and Tim about what could be done to soften the rough edges that Damian still possessed. _It was just going to take time, love and a great abundance of patience._

"Hey Damian," she called out in a soft voice. "Do you think you could come and give me a hand in here? I'd really appreciate it."

She saw the brief flash of guilt that filtered in his eyes. But then the mask that he habitually wore fell back into place. He cast a dark scowl in her direction, his mouth set in a hard, mulish line. She figured he was about to refuse to help when he surprised her by getting up and coming into the kitchen.

"What is it you want me to do?" He'd asked the question quietly, she saw, and without the typical sullen and rancorous bite that normally flavored his tone.

"Could you stir the pancake batter for me? I can't because it pulls at my stitches." Dick had said to use his guilt over what had happened that night to get him to come and help her. She figured reminding him about her injury would also work to keep him off his guard. "And make sure to stir it good. Don't know about you, but I, for one, cannot stand lumpy pancakes."

Damian picked up the wooden spoon and stirred the batter in silence. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she sliced the strawberries and bananas to go over the top of the pancakes. She was ambidextrous he saw, switching to her left hand to counter the weakness of her right. It was another thing that he hadn't known about her, something else he hadn't taken the time to learn. The guilt and shame whispered to him that there were lots of things he didn't know about her, lots of little and inconsequential things he hadn't known could mean so much. _Why did you save me_?

He didn't realize that he'd spoken his thought aloud until he felt her hands on his shoulders and heard her say quietly; "I saved you because I care about you, Damian."

Damian's body jerked, and then stiffened. But when he turned towards her his face was absolutely calm. "You didn't save me because you care about me," he said in a cold, hard voice. "You saved me because you hate your father. And because you care about Dick and my father. And about _Drake_…though I can't _imagine_ why."

Raya knelt down on one knee and gripped his shoulders in a firm grip. "You listen to me and you listen to me good boyo. Yes, I care about Dick and Tim. And I'd do anything I had to in order to prevent them from being hurt, from feeling a moment's pain, or from suffering the loss of yet another loved one. But I did _not_ save you from my father because of my feelings for _them_. Nor did I save you because I hate the rotten and no good son of a bitch that sired me. I saved you because of my feelings for _you_. Damian," her hands gentled, and her anger became exasperation. "You've had me wrapped around your little wing from the moment that I saw your face glaring up at me from within the confines of your cloak."

Decidedly uncomfortable with the direction this discussion had suddenly taken, Damian averted his eyes and mumbled a soft, embarrassed; "whatever."

"No, it is no _whatever_. _You_ are no whatever. Dami, if you haven't figured out that you've had me at your proverbial mercy for the last two years, well then," she said, framing his face. "You just haven't been paying close enough attention."

He wanted to spit, to snarl. He wanted to knock her hands away and stalk from the kitchen. He wanted... to be stroked and held, comforted and soothed he realized. It absolutely terrified him that he was thinking-feeling this way. He'd never had feelings for anybody but his mother and father. He'd never felt the need or desire for siblings, never saw the point to being part of a huge nuclear family.

But with Raya, it was a different kind of need, a deep, drowning need to be wanted, to be included in the same inner circle in which Dick and Tim belonged. There was no doubt that she cared about him; there was no way that he could deny that she didn't accept him for who he was, and not what he was. Damian wanted, desperately wanted in fact, to be loved. And he wanted to love in return. But a part of him was absolutely terrified about lowering his guard, about opening his heart and letting people not related by blood or obligated to give a shit about him, in. So he kept a tight reign over his emotions and merely shifted from foot to foot.

"Don't think that this changes anything between us," he muttered. "I still don't like you. Especially now that you've," the words were said in a sneer but what Raya heard was his desperate need to erect some type of a wall between them. "Taken up with _Drake_."

_Like father, like son_, Raya thought on a sigh. But there was a heart that beat within Damian's chest that keenly and desperately felt. _He just doesn't know how to show people he cares for them. It's the basic tenet of the nature versus nurture debate_. But she didn't push him any further. She cupped his cheeks in her palms for a brief moment before rising to her feet.

"So," she said as she turned on a burner and added some oil to the pan Tim had gotten down for her. "Your father loves strawberries on his pancakes. But," she looked at him, caught his relieved look and smiled. "You can have whatever you prefer on yours."

Damian considered his choices. Part of him wanted to say strawberries, like his father, but another part of him wanted to know what _she_ preferred. But it wasn't like he could out and out ask her. That would be letting her know that he was interested in learning something about her. And he couldn't allow that. "Which is better, cherries or strawberries?"

Oh, he was good. Had that same smooth and slick way his father did about interrogating people. Her lips curved affectionately. "I tend to like mine the same way as your father," she replied. "With strawberries and a little extra chocolate drizzled over the top."

"I'll have mine with the strawberries then," he said. He cut a quick glance at her, saw her smile, and quickly added; "Like my father."

Raya snorted out a laugh and then pointed to the bowl of batter with one finger. "Get stirring then. Your brothers are going to come inside any minute now and start pestering us about where breakfast is."

When Damian didn't argue with her, when he didn't even bother to counter with his typical statement about Dick and Tim not being his brothers, just simply picked up the spoon and began stirring the batter, Raya knew everything she needed to know about what was lurking inside his heart. _Oh, yes_, she thought as she began ladling batter into the pan. _You are just like him_. _And I love you all the more because you are._


End file.
